A Different Song
by Shogun24
Summary: AU- Same characters. Different Song. Will the outcome change?
1. The Quiet Wolf

**Author's Notes: **Well, It's been a long time since I suscribed to this site and I think I'm finally ready to post this.

I must say, I never thought I would try and write any kind of fic, but this setting just seemed to call to me, ideas just churned in my brain until I finally said "To heck with it, I'm doing this."

And here we are, with my first attempt ever at writing.

I welcome Criticisms which might help for later chapters.

So please Enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or any of its characters. They are the property of GRRM.

**A Different Song**

By Shogun24

_"When has it ever been right to punish someone for existing?"_

**Chapter 1: The Quiet Wolf**

_I am the Lord of Winterfell._

The words felt unreal to him, more than a year and yet he still expected someone to correct him. The Lord of Winterfell was always a Stark that was the truth.

_Brandon is dead, Father is dead._

He wished he could refuse it, that his father still lived, perhaps in the dungeon of the mad King, Brandon with him, screaming to be let out, to fight for their honor against whoever champion Aerys might send against them.

_You know what the truth is._

Yes, he knew the truth.

He was the Lord of Winterfell, his father, Rickard Stark, had been burned alive by Aerys II Targaryen, his brother, Brandon Stark, had been strangled to death as he tried to reach for his sword to save father.

Aerys had laughed at the spectacle.

"My lord?"

Blinking and looking down, Eddard realized he'd been gripping the reins of his horse tighter than usual. He relaxed his grip as he broke out of his thoughts and into reality, recalling once more where he was and who was with him.

He was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and at the moment Rebel commander against Aerys II Targaryen.

"My Lord, are you alright?"

He looked at his companion to the right, the one who had been with him through so much in so little time.

"Just lost in thought Howland" He replied to his friend.

A laugh came from his other companion, one whose respect he'd had to earn. Yet when he did, his loyalty and trust became unshakeable.

"Stop acting like a woman Reed, our lord is not going to break at a gentle breeze!"

"As you say, Umber" Reed replied stoically before going silent once more, all the while looking forward.

Jon "Greatjon" Umber just groaned at his companion's "lack of spirit", and "too serious" personality while the rest of their companions either laughed at the familiar byplay, or just remained silent through it all. Even Eddard could only look at it and resist the urge to smile.

Two more different people there could not have been, yet here they were riding alongside, as if it'd been pre-ordained.

Howland Reed, a Crannogman from the Neck, a friend who had been with him through so much in the brief period he'd known him. Since that fateful tournament at Harrenhal all through the entire Rebellion, Howland had proven himself a solid rock of support for the unexpected Lord. Short, silent, pragmatic, Reed still possessed a courage and bravery who was only matched by his loyalty.

_Then again, the Greatjon does not seem to lack those either._

Greatjon Umber, a member of the House known for their hardiness. The Northern climate had tempered them into being tough, strong, loyal, and among them perhaps none exemplified these temperaments better than the Greatjon. Tall, boisterous, and prone to grand proclamations, he who had questioned his fighting skill and prowess, had now become his man unto death.

How a man so different from Howland could grow to be so similar he'll never know.

_He will become the Heir now, there is no-one else._

Mors Umber, the current head of the house, no longer had any issue. His sons had died in the trident, leaving only the Greatjon as a viable candidate for taking over. Ned was sure that Mors would grieve in that way only Northman could, and inmediately start preparing his House for the dangers of the season and it's new leadership soon after.

That was the way of the Northmen, where grief was a commodity not many could afford.

_Certainly, not even for Father and Brandon_

Thoughts of his friend becoming head of House Umber turned once more to earlier recollections, Ned's aspect becoming grimmer as memories once more played through his head:

He remembered their godswood; the tall sentinels armored in their grey-green needles, the great oaks, the hawthorn and ash and soldier pines, and at the center the heart tree standing like some pale giant frozen in time.

He remembered Brandon and Himself, practicing their swordplay in one the many courtyards.

He remembered his father in the Great hall, dispensing both justice and sage advice when necessary.

He remembered Lyanna, riding wildly through the woods laughing all the way without a care in the world.

_Lyanna…_

Her sister, the one who's kidnapping had started it all. From there it all spiraled down; Aerys killing his family, Jon Arryn raising his banners, Robert fighting for his intended, till they arrived at the final battle, where all forces where joined to meet the Loyalists…

The Battle of the Trident, as its name implied in that trio of rivers split in the form of a trident, on the Easternmost river, the one called the Green Fork, through fertile valleys and green woodlands, past thriving towns and the castles of the river lords crossing what people were already calling the Ruby Ford, that was where the Loyalist Army had been broken…And where Robert had gained his vengeance.

The battle was still fresh in his memory.

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

**FLASHBACK BEGINS:**

The rebel forces were assembled on the east banks of the Green Fork, Robert and his men had joined forces with Ned's. The Tully's had just agreed to an alliance alongside the Arryn's in exchange for the marriage of both daughters to Jon and himself. Would they be safe? If they lose…Don't think about it, not now, not here, not when **HE** is here.

Of course, they finally had enough strength to threaten King's Landing and it is now when **HE** appears.

**HE** is absent at Sumerhall, where Robert smashed Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell.

**HE** is absent at Ashford, where it was only through luck that Robert escaped with his life.

**HE** is absent at Stoney Sept, where it was only Ned's and Hoster's timely arrival that gave Robert the time to launch a counter-attack.

**HE** was expected at each of those battles, and was in none, Ser Darry and Ser Selmy were expected in this battle… and **HE** comes alongside them.

Finally, after so long **HE** is here, the cause of all the suffering, the one who started this conflict, the one person who it could be said is as guilty as Aerys for the death of Lord Rickard and Brandon…

Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

He missed the beginning and only now comes from wherever he's been, probably wouldn't have moved from where he is keeping Lyanna if they weren't a threat, and that is a thought that brings anger to his mind. What has he been doing to Lyanna? Has he brought her here in his arrogance? Or has he simply tired of her and discarded her?

Too many thoughts passed through his mind to focus on. And it was only the great booming voice of Robert's command which pierced through them as he shouted:

"RHAEGAR IS MINE!"

He was close enough to see the look on his friend's face as he shouted those words. Gone was the jolly and boisterous man he had known for so many years, instead as if by some mysterious agency, there is a Warrior King from the Age of Heroes who can only look in deep hatred to anything in its path to its enemy.

For the first time Ned gets a deeper meaning for his old friend's family words:

OURS IS THE FURY!

Then there is no more time to think as the army, already in battle formation, starts moving towards their enemy. He hears a horn blow signaling the start of the battle, he hears the war cries of the men, the sound of hooves striking the earth as Knights race towards their counterparts. Soon the two armies are crashing against each other in a wave of steel, armor and blood.

The cries of the men dying permeates the air alongside the smell of blood, the sound of steel on steel resonate through the battlefield as men die by the second. A spearman drives a Knight into the ground, a swordsman cutting another one's arm, more men dying by the score as arrows find their marks. A great brawling mass of men distinguished only by their insignia as they cut each other.

He moves his sword and stabs a men through his armor, he hardly has the time to avoid the cut from another bearing the sigil of House Martell, a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field. As he cuts him down he can't help but reflect on that fact, The Dornishmen are here, that means that their last numbers may be wrong, the Loyalist have more men than they thought.

He moves through confrontation after confrontation, cutting down Knights as they try to unhorse him. It is as he runs through a spearman that he notices for the first time that, due to his focus in the battle, he has moved apart from his companions. A quick search finds them engaged with a cluster of Dornishmen, yet just as he moves to join them he sees a commotion through the ranks.

The Three headed Dragon standard began moving, Rhaegar at its lead.

He cuts down many men wearing the stag of House Baratheon, and drives down many more as he advances through their army. Knights and swordsmen alike moved to intercept him only to be callously killed by him or his soldiers.

He truly seemed unstoppable at that moment, the Warrior come again as some of his men feared. Yet as he cuts down another Knight, he was distracted enough so he could not react to the fierce war cry of a Knight with the crowned black stag in a field of gold sigil, but this was no ordinary knight, for on his helmet were the antlers of a Stag, and on his hand the War Hammer of Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.

Robert had never been one to lead from the rear and in his advance he had eventually reached combat with Prince Rhaegar. Wasting no time he immediately tried to wheel about to meet Robert's advance, yet it was too late, for the Lord of Storm's End choose in that moment to ram his horse into Rhaegar's as he moved his Warhammer to crush his head.

Rhaegar could only put a hasty defense that managed to deviate the blow so it slightly striked his arm, yet that was enough for him to lose his grip in the reins and start falling to the ground, and at the same time Robert's horse crashed into Rhaegar's, forcing him to abandon it as well.

The both of them recovered quickly, Rhaegar using only his sword and Robert holding his Warhammer in both hands, the world held its breath for a moment as they faced each other, so powerful were the feelings there. All along them men were screaming and hacking, yet for them there was nothing but each other.

The next second the spell was broken, and Robert screamed at Rhaegar as he swung his Warhammer.

Ned wished he could have continued seeing the duel, but his distraction cost him dearly when he felt his horse whine and startle as it was speared by a man wearing the Targaryen insignia, Ned could only move quickly before the horse fell on top of him and it was only through sheer luck that he made it.

With quick reflexes he moved to confront the spearman, managing to avoid his thrusts and enter his guard in order to quickly finish him. He had come too close to death at that moment.

His nerves were at their peak so in that instant, as his instincts screamed at him, he was able to quickly evade a blow which would have split his hand from his arm. He countered the attack, but his opponent was more skilled than a normal knight. Once, twice, three times Ned attacked and they were all blocked or diverted till his opponent decided to counter.

If his first attacks had been fast then this one put those to shame, Ned struggled with every blow, moving in ways he had never thought possible in an attempt to keep himself alive. There was no room to counter, no time either, his opponent was determined not to give him a chance to recover.

It was only through luck that on one of their exchanges Ned's opponent mistimed and overextended himself, he recovered quickly enough but it gave Ned the time needed to put space between them. He was breathing heavily, this was no ordinary swordsman, and in this lull in combat he could see why.

White cloak, an intricate suit of white enameled scales, fastenings for breastplate made of silver, and a pure white unemblazoned shield…

Kingsguard.

Ned inmediately raised his guard once more. He shouldn't have bothered, for the next moment the Kingsguard spoke in a rough voice.

"Not a bad show traitor, if you hadn't turned you might have lived to become better"

Ned remained silent, through this exchange.

"Nothing to say? For the best, traitors shouldn't be granted last words. Know then that you face Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard"

Thus once the last word passed his lips Ser Jonothor striked once more.

Though Ser Jonothor was many years senior to Ned he fought like a man of the same age, parrying several of his strokes with ease and managing to land quite a few blows and dents into his armor.

Through it all Ned could not help but admire Ser Jonathor for his prowess with the sword, he had been able to land some blows, yet his opponent either made sure that they landed in ares that would not affect him, or made them strike in well armored places.

Truly, this was the difference between a Knight and a Kingsguard.

He was promptly brought back to reality when he felt his opponent strike his breastplate, denting it and drawing blood.

He just barely managed to raise his sword in time to block the man's next strike before their swords broke apart and the song of steel on steel began again, this time with slightly less fervor on his side.

He was younger than Ser Darry, and yet slowly but surely he was approaching the point of exhaustion where it was likely that any slip up would lead to his death.

Ser Jonothor must have seen it as well for in their next exchange he made a tiny but noticeable mistake, as he swung his sword to attempt a finishing strike he left a visible gap between his neck and breastplate.

Ned took the opportunity with everything he had left.

He moved to the right in order to feint a stabbing strike to the old knight's shoulder. In all his life he had never felt as exposed and afraid as in those few seconds between his movements and those of Ser Jonothor, wondering if his plan would work or if this was truly when he would meet his father and brother.

The Old Gods must have heard his prayers, and he remembered to breathe when he saw Ser Jonothor fall for his trick.

He would never forget the face of horror he made when he realized his mistake, or the face of pain when once he raised his Valyrian steel blade, Ice, he struck quick and true to the man's exposed skin, drawing blood, a lot of blood.

Ned pulled Ice out and then struck quickly again at Ser Jonothor's neck, blood spurting out.

Thus it was that Ser Jonothor Darry, Knight of the Kingsguard, met his end at the Battle of the Trident.

Knowing that he could do nothing to help the old knight, Ned said a quick prayer to the Old Gods to ensure Ser Jonothor found peace in death before moving on.

As he moved he took a moment to observe the battle, men were screaming and dying, shouts and battle cries deafened them all; "Targaryen", "For the prince", "Fire and Blood" came from the Loyalists and were answered by great cries of "For Robert", "Ours is the Fury" and even "Winterfell" from his own men.

Even so, the battle was ebbing and flowing all around the Green Fork. There was no clear winner yet in any of the minor and major conflicts being fought. Rebels were dying as fast as the Royalists, but it seemed that the Royalists were dying in greater numbers.

As Ned looked around the field, he saw his own companions in close proximity to himself.

They were engrossed in killing and holding back men who wore the three headed dragon crest of the royal family from interfering with his fight. However, seeing Ser Jonothor die had made their enemies increase their fury and their efforts so that they could kill them and Ned.

Unfortunately, they could not be at every place at once, so it came as a surprise to Ned, just as he was recovering his breath, that more soldiers took notice of him.

With a cry of "Targaryen" one of them began to swing at him. Caught off guard Ned barely had time to raise a sloppy defense and was pushed back as his new opponent prepared to unleash a new strike.

Ned hastily threw a counterstrike, intended more to distract than to make any kind of damage. It seemed to do the trick as his opponent raised his guard and gave Ned the necessary time to once more regain his bearings, yet all the other men started approaching, now cautiously, in order to end his life.

As Ned regained his breath he heard the sound of dying men farther away. Then a great voice boomed as it approached across the battlefield.

"What's the matter, is this all "Lord Stark" can do?"

One of his opponents gave a death gurgle as a great sword was shoved through his back, Ned could only look surprised at the blade as its owner lifted the body and then threw it away among the group of enemy swordsmen, distracting them enough for the giant to swiftly end their lives.

"See? They drop like flies" Said the Greatjon as he near-snarled a laugh

Greatjon Umber, nephew of the current Head of House Umber, a giant of a man who on first meeting had shown his derision of his Southern knightly education. His uncle had dealt with him with a few choice words and a cuff to the head, yet he still seemed to show some disdain towards his fighting prowess.

Ned snapped out of his thoughts quickly enough as the Greatjon moved ahead to another fight, only to be suddenly attacked. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that both Ned and the giant had looks of surprise across their faces as a mounted knight rammed his horse against the Greatjon, driving him to the ground.

Who was more surprised, himself or the knight (the sigil of House Mooton of the Vale he noticed), Ned would never know as the image of the Greatjon, still alive, holding the horses front legs by his hands and wrestling it was imprinted in their minds.

The Greatjon wrestling the horse had at the moment no defense, the Knight could not attack as well having to put all his abilities in controlling his horse. Thus with all the noise of the battlefield Ned could not make himself heard as he saw a second knight (this one with the sigil of House Yronwood) move towards the Greatjon.

Wasting no time, the second Knight made as to attack, and Ned moved against him even faster. The knight who had been more focused on the Greatjon at that moment could only watch in confusion at his sudden appearance. Thus the knight barely had time to move a muscle before Ned quickly and suddenly cut the back legs of his horse and shoulder tackled it.

The knight fell with his horse, could barely move as he was trapped beneath it as Ned thrusted Ice right through his throat.

Off to the side he heard the Greatjon shout in triumph as he lifted and threw the Knight with his horse to the side, followed by a quick stab to his heart.

They looked at each other after the fighting, Ned with his usual reserved composure, and the Greatjon as if re-evaluating him.

As Ned turned his back and moved back towards the fray and his companions, the Greatjon looked on, as he heard him call to his back.

"Are you coming?"

He didn't see the fierce grin that split the Greatjon's face, nor the respectful look that there now was in his eyes, yet he did hear the sound of his footsteps following and his voice as he replied with laughter and his sword at his shoulders.

"Am I coming!? Try and stop me!"

Both Ned and the Greatjon moved quickly through the battlefield, they were faced with more and more men bearing the Targaryen insignia, which they made short work of before continuing on.

They were close to Rhaegar's and Robert's battle, he could still hear Robert's howls of rage as he cursed Rhaegar and his family to whatever hell there existed.

More Knights fell to the Greatjon, as Ned cut all men who stood against him, they reached Ned's companions, and in the way he saw the terrible toll they were taking from the Loyalists.

Howland Reed, the smallest of them yet a demon in fighting, he favored the spear for its thrusting strikes and his capability to keep enemies at bay. Many a foe had tried to close the distance only to be stymied by his speed, or by his other companions at his side.

Quick, agile, and skill with a spear who could leave every opponent dazzled right before they died. Many swordsmen had recognized that skill and tried to give a wide berth, only to die by a stab they never saw coming.

Theo Wull, chief of the Wull clan of the mountains. He moved his axe with an economy of motion which showed his pragmatism in fighting. He did not go towards his enemies, he let the enemies come to him; many a man had done so, and he rewarded their courage with a quick death. Stubborn, precise, with no movement being wasted between swings. A hard man with no need for flourishes.

Ser Mark Ryswell, a man with a gentle disposition and soft speech, a man who in many occasions people had wondered why would he take arms instead of the collars of the Maesters.

If they saw him now they would probably understand.

Gone was the gentle smile replaced by a hard line, and his eyes who shined warmth on men, women and children were now two blocks of obsidian, hard and strong as he cut down any man that crossed his path. Sturdy, strong, determined. A gentleman out of battle, merciless once in it. A true knight.

Martyn Cassel, so many tragedies befell that man, yet like a proverbial mountain he stood tall. Three of his sons dead and he carried on like he always did; with a look in his eyes that dared the world to do his worst, he would take it and endure it.

And so it was in battle, as many enemies found when they attacked just to be swiftly blocked by his shield. Time and time again they exhausted themselves just for Martyn to hold strong and then return their strikes with a viciousness they were not prepared for. Proud, enduring, strong. A literal rock where the ocean broke.

Willam Dustin, boisterous, happy, quick to take insult yet quick to forgive as well, the one most similar to the Greatjon in both temperament and fighting technique. Swordsmen didn't attack him, he attacked the swordsmen.

The man knew not the word defense, always preferring to deal the damage rather than receive it. Aggressive, cheerful, never backing down from a challenge. He would be full of scars once the fighting was done, and would brag about every single one of them.

Every single one of them was worth at least three men, and when Ned and the Greatjon joined them the carnage became truly horrific.

Moving Ice for a thrust once again Ned engaged the assailants, cutting down one, then another, until he found a rhythm comprised of both attacking and defending.

At the same time his companions quickly adjusted to their Lord and the Greatjon's presence; covering each other, aiding in their attacks when one of them struggled. They quickly became a well preserved windmill, just grinding down every foe coming at them. Not a single one who stood against them escaped nor survived.

In close combat he swung his sword, two more men were cut down with the help of Lord Dustin, at the same time he moved quickly to block a blow that would have struck Lord Dustin's arm. The man did not notice as he quickly moved to end the spearman's life and searched for a new target. So did the Greatjon who now stuck close to Ned and fought by his side as they killed all enemy swordsmen who came at them.

Howland worked closely with Theo, the both of them a perfect combination against any who tried to oppose them, already many of the enemy were trying to give them a wide berth; not many succeeded, and those who did found no safety…

For those who escaped were then immediately faced with the merciless strikes of Ser Ryswell, cutting hands, legs and heads. They tried to rush him, just so that they could find that Cassel would stand between Ser Ryswell and them. They broke on his shield, they died by his sword.

All the while Ned tried to keep an eye on Robert, his companions and his men following him as he slowly but surely made a true dent in the enemy's lines. His his vision was constantly blurred by attacks from the loyalists, and eventually Ned lost himself to the clashing of steel once more, mowing down man after man, to the point that he hardly could see their faces.

He heard the booming voices of Lord Dustin and the Greatjon as they striked down more men together; he heard the cries of the wounded as they were quickly cut short by Ser Ryswell's blade, and all along he heard the encouraging shouts of his men. And once the final Knight who had stood in his way was dead, they broke through the loyalist line in one final push, leaving a pocket exposed.

It was the Greatjon who beat them all, as he gave a great War cry in order to expose the opening, as well as to declare their triumph.

"WINTERFELL!"

Yet at the same time, that war cry was immediately overshadowed by the strongest sound they had ever heard which resonated through the trident.

BOOOOOOOOM!

Ned, as everyone else was doing surely, looked towards the sound which had come from the exact place where Robert and Rhaegar had been fighting.

Their tiredness forgotten, Ned pushed himself in that direction, his companions not far behind as they cut any who stood in their way. Yet it almost seemed like there was hardly any resistance, and among the loyalists there appeared to be a look of fear as the lines who had been so solid before were now wavering.

The battle between Robert and Rhaegar was done when Ned arrived, on one side he could see Robert holding his side where he could clearly see a sword wound, his helmet was off and Ned could see his face.

Robert's face had a look that Ned never would have imagined his friend to wear, it was a combination of a smile of pure joy, alongside a look of the most pure hatred, battling alongside what could only be called satisfaction. It was disquieting to see his friend thus.

Even as he was, breathing heavily and holding an arm to his wounded side, he still showed an image of never wanting to leave this moment.

Moving his eyesight to where Robert was looking he could understand why.

For on the other side there was Rhaegar Targaryen, his helmet was still on so they couldn't see his face, but it wasn't necessary. His chestplate which had been proudly emblazoned with the three headed dragon was now a ruined piece of metal. The rubies which had been encrusted where nowhere to be seen, probably in the waters of the ford now.

And his body was not moving.

Robert's breathing was getting stronger, with each lungfull he gathered more of himself. He started getting up from his kneeling position, first his right leg, then the left one.

As he recovered himself, he took one last big mouthful of air as he screamed up towards the heavens.

"UHHRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

It was a shout of pure animalistic satisfaction, of a predator killing its prey, or in this case of a man killing his most hated enemy.

It was the shout of Robert Baratheon killing Rhaegar Targaryen.

And the Rebel army followed its lead.

With a mighty shout the rebel lines surged forward, Ned and his men alongside them, as they pushed, pushed, and pushed some more. The pure fury of Robert seemed to have channeled into their men as they cut down loyalist after loyalist in their path.

The lines wavered, then broke. Men started fleeing everywhere they could, dropping swords, shields, armor, all in a futile attempt to be faster and escape this hell. All the while the rebels cut them down, slashing, thrusting, cuting. Soon the river ran red with their blood.

And then it was over.

The Battle of the trident was won.

**FLASHBACK END.**

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

After tending to the wounded the regrouping of the army had to be done, lords had to count their losses, armor from the dead and the wounded removed to send to one's family, or in the latter's cases to be repaired by the many blacksmiths of the area.

Compared to the Loyalists though their losses had been lighter, even with the added threat of the 10,000 Dornishmen who had been with them.

They should have expected them, but who could have thought that they would fight for the Iron Throne when Rhaegar had so obviously shamed his wife, the niece of Prince Lewyn Martell himself.

It was during this period of resting that Ned found that he had gained a new companion, for Greatjon Umber now became a truly loyal member of his guard. The battle having showed Ned's martial prowess and his behavior during the fighting, had turned him now into one of his more loyal supporters. The others seemed to take to the Greatjon well, with Lord Dustin being the most enthusiastic.

It was not until after the battle when the commanders met later on inside Robert's tent.

Robert was still wounded yet in greater spirits than before, having killed Rhaegar seemed to have revitalized him in a way. Jon carried that fatherly look that he had when in Robert's and Ned's presence, one could see that he was still worried about Robert's injuries and trying not to show it.

Of all the commanders in the tent the one who was not known completely to them was Hoster Tully, the Father in-law of both Ned and Jon. He had not joined them in rebellion until after the weddings had been performed, yet once the matter had been resolved he had entered with a passion to their cause. Many of his own bannermen had showed unwillingness to betray the Iron Throne, and Hoster had dealt with them by razing their castles and killing the men.

_He was not a man one would want as an enemy._

It was there in the tent where the death of Prince Lewyn Martell was known.

This was the battle that would decide the course of the war, of that everyone was certain. Not only were Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Jonothor Derry slayed, but Ser Barristan the Bold also was captured. And the best news were already in the mouth of every single soldier; Rhaegar Targaryen slayed, killed by Robert Baratheon himself at what many already were calling the Ruby Ford.

Robert could not stop smiling at all, he'd been like a kid who has been told that he could have all the sweets he wanted and could play all night as well.

But still there was work to be done, with Rhaegar's death that left only one more opponent to them all; King Aerys II Targaryen.

That name was enough to spark the anger in Ned, who had then argued for him to lead the army to King's Landing and taking down Aerys once and for all. The others had been agreeable, Robert himself had suggested to appoint Ned to command the entire army while he recovered and Jon had seemed to accept.

But it was not Ned's intention to take the entire army, for he'd had a most disturbing thought all through the discussion in the tent; the news of the Trident will spread like fire through the entire Seven Kingdoms, the news might have reached Aerys himself.

Aerys, who once he heard the news might just decide to abandon King's Landing to its fate.

He was not called the Mad King for nothing, he could as easily decide to defend the city to the last man and the next second abandon it to his fate while he joined with the rest of the Loyalists.

As such, to stop him he would need to move fast, faster than all the army altogether could.

That was why, instead of taking the entire army, he declared that he would take only his Northmen with him, all 12,000 of them to king's Landing.

Jon had been against the plan, arguing how the need for a greater number of troops in case of a sudden attack from the Tyrell army, who by then should have heard of the death of Rhaegar.

Ned had argued back against Jon, claiming that the Tyrell forces were too big to move swiftly enough. Such a large force would take time to break the siege and move. He could reach King's Landing before they did, and put lookouts to warn him from any sudden movements.

Furthermore, Robert and Jon himself would be right behind him with the rest of the army, as such in the extreme case the Tyrells arrived sooner, he could retreat and join forces with them before they could catch him alone.

Ned argued for his plan to move quickly, explaining how that for all they knew Aerys and his family might try to escape the city and as such if they were to end the war they needed a quick and decisive strike before they did.

He fervently hoped they wouldn't see his true motive behind this plan. Great as his desire was for moving quickly there was another an even bigger one which had been building long since.

It was not his desire for ending this war, as much as he wanted to go back to Winterfell. And he as much as he wanted to save his sister, this one selfish desire of him would have to be placated first. It was eating him from the inside out and he could not have any rest until he achieved it.

For Eddard Stark would not rest until he avenged the death of his father and brother by taking Aerys' head himself.

Perhaps Robert, understanding very well the need for vengeance, saw the motivation in his eyes and agreed, or perhaps it was his logic which convinced Jon, but in the end they caved. It was agreed that Eddard would take his Northmen with him to King's Landing, and Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and Hoster Tully would follow as soon as possible.

_And here we are._

That was how Eddard Stark found himself commanding 12,000 Northmen as they approached the city of King's Landing. His companions at his side, his scouts already deployed and prepared to warn him in case of enemy movements and surprise attacks. His men marching through the Kingsroad and the temperate weather typical of the Crownlands.

They marched through Lord Harroway's town, with his seven-sided sept, two-story inn and stone roundtower. All along they passed people now destitute because of the devastation that both sides brought to the conflict.

The Houses in the Riverlands which had remained loyal to the Targaryens had been put to the sword by his Father in-law. And the Loyalist host moving through the Riverlands had certainly no mercy to give to traitors and his supporters.

South of Lord Harroway's town, to the east of the God's eye, Ned could see the fires and destruction of farmlands and animals. It was easy to see the change from when they left the Riverlands and entered the Crownlands, as the difference between them were as great as night and day. Ruined farms and deserted villages giving way to secure farmland with scared peasants who ran and hid from his approaching host.

By the time they crossed the Ivy inn there were hardly any people passing by. Many must have been in hiding, knowing very well that they stood no chance against his army. A response was at least expected from the towerhouse at Sow's Horn but their defenders apparently trusted more their chances of survival to the thickness of their walls.

_House Hogg was supposed to control that area, and House Hayford above them._

Both Jon and Robert had given him all the information of the Crownlands and its geography that was necessary, or at least as much as they could in a short period of time. One of the facts that stuck in his head was the House in the border with the Riverlands, a house that during the Battle of the trident there was no sign of its blazon: a green fetty over gold, a green pale wavy.

For all intents and purposes Ned expected them to at least try an ambush, perhaps later on as they were just leaving the Ivy inn. Yet there was not a movement of its soldiers, and all his scouts reported not having seen any movements or signs of ambush.

Ned became more apprehensive as they reached Hayford Castle, the seat of House Hayford. He expected a battle here, where being situated to oppose the passing of the army, the Hayfords would try to withstand a siege.

His surprise thus was pleasant when he found the castle with no soldier to man it.

All he found were scared peasants who informed him that the Lord and his family had taken his soldiers and abandoned the castle as soon as they'd heard of the death of prince Rhaegar, and thus the entire area was entirely undefended. As it was they would soon be swarmed by bandits unless someone did something soon.

Ned and his men stayed a night in the castle while he had his scouts checked the area in case of a trap. They came back a couple of hours later reporting the truth of the peasants. The place was completely naked, the Kingsroad was deserted and could still be used on the way to the capital.

The next day they moved at first light, leaving Hayford Castle behind, and the confrontation with Aerys firmly in mind. The closer they got to King's Landing, the more the memories had assailed him.

And so, Ned was readying himself to face his greatest enemy. The feelings of fury in his body, which he had been able to control in the road here, seemed to increase the closer they got to the capital. The night was cold as they marched yet inside him he felt a fire that warmed his bones and infused him with energy. He wanted to reach the city, he wanted to ride ahead of everyone and shout for Aerys to come and die, like his brother had done a year ago for Rhaegar.

That he held back was mostly because of his men, he had to keep reminding himself of that fact. They would follow him to their deaths if he attempted to be so foolhardy, so he held back and the cycle repeated itself over and over again.

As he once again tried to calm himself he heard the conversations of his companions. Or specifically, the Greatjon attempting to once again goad Reed.

"Come on Reed, these southern lasses will be spreading their legs eagerly for some strong northern warriors!"

"I already have someone back home."

"You don't have to marry each woman you lay with! With your attitude you'd think Creepers fuck just to breed"

"As you say Umber"

Once again failing to obtain a proper display of emotion the Greatjon groaned into his hand as Lord Dustin laughed at it all.

_Point to Reed_, Ned thought.

Ser Ryswell just listened to the interactions with a gentle smile as he occasionally checked his sword to make sure that it was in good condition. The only ones not making any sound were Theo and Martyn, both of them being more serious than the rest of the companions riding alongside.

As they marched he took the chance to once more inspect his host. All behind him marched the Bannermen sworn to House Stark and their retainers with them.

To the right he could see the sigil of House Manderly, the white merman with dark green hair, beard and tail carrying a black trident over a blue-green field. Lord Wyman Manderly having been injured in the last battle was still recovering, but still sent his men with Ned.

Next to them where the Crannogmen from the Neck, all as thick as thieves that to find their sigils among them was an exercise in futility, Reed would have been among them had it not been for their friendship.

To the left he could see the Flayed man of House Bolton. Even now the Bolton's were never a house to be completely trusted; rival kings at the same time of the Kings in the north, they had made the transition to being rival lords after the conquest by the Targaryens. Their leader, Lord Roose Bolton had probably the whitest skin and the coldest eyes one could find both in the North and the South. Combined with a soft manner of speaking and many people were disquieted by the man.

The Glovers marched alongside as well. Their blazon, a silver mailed fist on scarlet fluttering in the soft breeze. More than just allegiance motivated them, for among the men accompanying Brandon in King's Landing was Lord Glover's heir, Ethan Glover. _Probably dead by now_, the Glover's still had orders to rescue him if alive, and if dead to bring his bones to the North.

The Tallharts had sent their men as well, their sigil showing three green sentinel trees over a brown field. Their words bringing to mind a memory of days gone by. "Proud and Free", House Tallhart's words.

Those had applied perfectly to Lyanna back then, back when they were all together in Harrenhal…

He shook himself before he got lost in the memories again, they were too close to his objective to let himself be distracted once more. _Focus_, he had to focus in the future confrontation, the final one against Aerys and whatever forces he has gathered.

As the host approached two of the scouts they had sent came riding through. In their faces there was the look of fear and apprehension, so much that Ned could only speculate on what they had seen. He felt the beginnings of doubt pass through his fury infused mind, and just as quickly disappear leaving him only with a calm resolve to sort whatever news came at him.

_Was I wrong? Have the Tyrells arrived? Were the Hayfords spying on us and now the loyalist are approaching?_

This and more thoughts passed through Ned's head as he heard the labored breathing of the scouts. They had rode hard, with obviously some important news to report.

"What news? Has the Tyrell host moved faster than we predicted?"

"My Lord, it's not the Tyrells! We were almost in reach and sight of King's Landing, yet we could still see if there was an army at the place! We saw… My Lord an army is approaching! But it was not the Tyrell army! They came from the road that comes from the west, The Gold Road. And in their sigil there was a Golden Lion!"

_Coming from the Gold Road. A golden Lion…_

_Lannister_

The richest House in all of Westeros, made so by their Head of the House; Lord Tywin Lannister. A calculating, intelligent, politically astute, ruthless, and controlling man. A proven battle commander and politician, he remembered his father had once said that Tywin Lannister possessed an unflinching gaze that could make lesser men swiftly turn away.

Tywin's ability even came to the attention of Aerys, who had been so impressed with him that he appointed Tywin to be his Hand of the King. Once in power he had proven himself a brilliant administrator and held the post for twenty years of peace and plenty.

Some people had joked that it was he and not the king who really ruled the land. It was one of the reasons for Aerys' increasing paranoia and jealousy, which in the end drove the two into several bitter disagreements.

After Aerys refused to marry Cersei to his heir, and at the same time insulting Tywin by saying "_You don't marry your heir to your servant's daughter_", he also raised Jaime Lannister, Tywin's fifteen-year old son, to the Kingsguard, thereby robbing Tywin of his heir and efectively making him a hostage to use against his father.

Tywin resigned his position on some thin pretext and returned to Casterly rock after that, and many never expected him to lift a finger in aid of Aerys. _We certainly didn't, not after the Trident at least._

_Then again, it would also make sense._

Arrive with an army at Aerys' gates ready to fight for him, in exchange of a royal marriage of course. And with no one more qualified than him he would easily assume the position of Hand of the King. Aerys would not live for long and Tywin could set himself to be the true power behind the throne, thereby securing the ascendancy and the future of House Lannister for generations to come.

The rage which had been controlled inside his body suddenly rose to a crescendo at that thought.

_Over my dead body._

Defiant, angry thoughts passed through his head as he listened to the rest of the scout's report.

_They're not aware of our presence… About 10 to 12,000 of them… The Lannister sigil among them… They'll reach King's Landing in about two hours…_

That last one brought him out of his musings, he didn't have time to lose now. Ned quickly called for messengers at the same time he ordered his cavalry to assemble as soon as possible.

_I need to halt them_, he thought, _Just long enough so they don't enter the city, if my army can reach them just as I sow confusion…_

Intercept them before they reached the city. He wasn't sure if it would work, not with the limited amount of time they had.

But it gave them a chance.

_A chance is all I ask_, he prayed to the old Gods.

As the orders were given and the cavalry began moving to the front, He send another messenger to relay his battle plans to the rest of the army.

"With the new threat approaching we will need to strike before they get to the city, the army will move at double march, faster if possible. Lord Karstark will be in command

I'll take the cavalry through the last of the Kingsroad. I'll ambush the Lannisters in the road, forcing them to slow down. We will then wait for my host to join us."

The messengers dispersed and soon enough he heard his lords shouting orders to their men.

He held his reins tighter as he prepared to ride, hearing the enthusiastic voice of the Greatjon talking to both Cassel and Wull.

"Better the army doesn't take too long, less we kill all Lannisters before they arrive."

"You should be more cautious, Tywin's a seasoned commander, he might not be so easily ambushed" Reed replied.

_He should know_, Ned thought, _Crannogmen fight by ambush after all._

Ser Ryswell interrupted then what would have been another exchange between the Greatjon and Howland:

"Howland's right, this confrontation could end either way. But then," A small smirk grew on his face as he replied in a good nature at Reed "that's what you said at the Trident didn't you?"

The Greatjon laughed hard as he slapped Ser Ryswell's back. Lord Dustin accompanying in the laughter while Martyn and Theo remained as stoic as ever.

"See!" The Greatjon continued "Ryswell is with me on this! We'll make a present of the Lannisters to Aerys just before we kill him. And afterwards we'll find some comely lasses to warm us during the night. Maybe I'll even spare one for you. What do you say?"

Reed looked at the Greatjon's smiling and animated face for a moment before looking straight ahead and replying:

"As you say Umber"

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

_We won't make it in time._

Ned rode alongside his companions, the Northern cavalry just behind him, and the same phrase repeating itself over and over again.

_We won't make it in time._

He should have gotten word of the army by now. He had dispatched more riders to go ahead and let him know. Yet they all brought the same response.

No army in sight.

_We won't make it in time._

Instead all they found were the remaining tracks and signs of an army which had already passed through. They had perhaps the same number that he, yet they moved faster than his cavalry!

_We won't make it in time!_

And Ned could only blame himself for that.

Or perhaps not, after all while the scouts had provided the information, nothing said that they could not be mistaken. Miscalculation of time was a possibility. Or perhaps they didn't cover their tracks and were spotted by the enemy's scouts without realizing, thus giving alerting them to their intentions.

Every single one of those reasons could have explained, and excused, why they had yet to see a single Lannister soldier. But for Eddard Stark, who at this moment had to consider the serious possibility that they might actually miss the enemy host, there was only the bitter feeling of failure as they quickly approached the last miles leading to King's Landing without encountering the Lannisters.

They were moving with all due speed, the horses making such noise that to be heard one had to shout.

"My Lord, we are nearing the capital!" yelled Ser Ryswell

"And no sight of the Lannister host yet!" Added Lord Dustin.

It was true, only a few more miles and they would be reaching King's Landing, _and bristling with enemy forces_, he thought. All their riding, all their efforts, just ended in failure.

As he prepared to give the order to halt, he was suddenly interrupted by Howland, as his voice carried over the group.

"Is not the dawn! So why does it look clearer up ahead?!"

Ned once more looked at the direction Reed had pointed to, _it is clearer_, he thought, _the direction we are going doesn't point to the sun, it is also not early enough, what-?_

His mind turning to dark thoughts, he clenched his teeth to stop his former order. Then with a firm voice he spoke.

"We are moving forward! Send word to the rest of the cavalry to stop as soon as we are in sight of the city!"

As the order was passed own Ned kept a tight hold over his reigns as more possibilities which he hadn't considered before moved through his mind.

_He wouldn't. Tywin Lannister…_

But the more he thought, it all seemed to suddenly fit together.

_He was not going to join Aerys._

His mount raced alongside the others. The Greatjon being the nearest one to him while Howland remained a close second. Thus it was the three of them who had the dubious pleasure of being the first one to see King's Landing.

"By the Gods" Whispered Ned.

More and more of the Northern Cavalry arrived and stopped near Ned. More proclamations, less polite and more vicious followed.

They had stopped in front of a huge gate, the gate of the Gods, whose large opening had detailed carvings on the gatehouse and over the portcullis with eyes that seemed to follow as one neared the gates; the doors were opened, with the thick wooden panels whose dark color brought to Ned's mind the very nights on the North during Winter. It was an odd thought to have at the moment, but perhaps understandable for what they were seeing all around them.

A city in flames.

And over the ramparts flew the Golden Lion of Lannister.

"The Gods had nothing to do with this." Said Howland, a note of distaste in his voice as he looked up at the emblem.

Ned regained his composure quickly enough as he urged his horse forward, his men following him as they entered.

Smoke rose from the burning buildings, the cries of merchants and beggars were silenced as fire ravaged through the former stalls and wares. Cobbler's square had not been spared either, nor were its inhabitants either.

All along were bodies; men, women and children, dead and thrown all about. Some without legs, arms or even heads, women with cut throats and children had been ridden down by horses as they passed.

The fire was not confined there, for they could see how it had spread through the Lion Gate, reaching even the Guildhall of Alchemists. The smoke reached Baelor's Sept even if the fire had not arrived there yet. The Old Gate, with the Dragonpit was not spared either, for through the Street of Sisters you could hear the scream of people dying, as well as the laughter of cruel soldiers.

In the distance he could see the Red Keep rising above Aegon's Hill, yet the sight failed to instill any awe in him. Only a quick thought that passed through his mind.

_There's hardly any fire there yet._

"This is disgraceful"

Ser Ryswell comment was met with similar ones from the rest of the companions. His face, normally so placid when not in battle now contorted into a mask of anger and disgust at the sight in front of him.

Which only deepened by the Greatjon's comment.

"Disgraceful!? It's a bloody treachery and cowardice! Do these Lannisters have no honor at all!"

That brought an even angrier muttering among the men. It was one thing to fight an army, even one defending a city, but this, this was…

_Wrong_, Ned thought, _this is all wrong._

Butchered babies on the streets, old men and children accompanied them. More women than can be counted have and are still being raped.

Yet his sight still remained fixed to the Red Keep.

_There's hardly any fire there yet._

"What now?"

That cool toneless voice stopped the angry talk around, showing neither anger nor sadness, only a query.

Ned was not the only one who turned to look at the owner of said voice, yet he was probably the only one not completely unfazed that it had been Martyn Cassel the one to make that question.

He looked around the entire carnage with those dispassionate eyes of his, he saw the butchered bodies of men, women and children that littered the area, saw the burned buildings and the destruction and devastation being brought to innocent people.

Yet not a single thing he saw seemed to move him from that ice cold disposition of his.

_Like a proverbial mountain. _Ned thought,_ pitiless and unmovable._

"What now, milord?" He repeated.

Ned looked at his companions and his men; all 1,500 of them, looking at him waiting now for an answer as to what their new orders were.

_King's landing can't be saved now, too many soldiers and not enough of my men. But… But the Red Keep…_

"The Red Keep."

Ned's words were delivered in a strong tone which brooked no arguments towards anyone. All companions, from the Greatjon to Ser Ryswell understood immediately.

Turning to look at his cavalry he immediately repeated his orders.

"We are moving to the Red Keep! We'll take the palace and hold it until Robert and Jon get here. Move at all speed until we get there, and kill all enemies in our path!"

"What of any Lannisters we meet milord?" Asked Howland.

Ned grabbed the reins of his horse as he prepared to march as he answered.

"Any Lannisters in our way… run them through"

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

He rushed through the hallways impaling another guard that stood in his way. The body hit the floor and Ned did not even acknowledge it, already moving far beyond it with the Greatjon and Reed at his side.

The ride to the Red Keep had not been an easy one. The fire and the bodies became many obstacles as they rode. The poor visibility and the smoke gave occasion for many an injury as riders fell of their horses, breaking bones, and in occasion heads.

The Lannisters were there as well, on many cases trying to stop them, demanding that they identify themselves. Not that it help them any as the Northern cavalry ran through them, and on the few occasions that they tried to form up they were at best a speedbump. Too spread up to put their entire strength against the Northmen, they had no choice but to let them move.

The Red Keep, when they reached it, had just been breached after holding off the attackers from storming their gates for a little time. When Ned led his own forces into it he found it being in control of Lannister soldiers… which he and his men killed as they entered.

This was where they split up; Wull, Cassel, and Dustin would each take a number of his men and eliminate all defenders while securing the key entrances of the Keep, making sure that no one entered or left.

Ser Ryswell had gone with him and the others, but the further ahead they went, the more Lannister soldiers and bannermen they found. In the end Ser Ryswell was told to hold them back and eliminate them, taking with him the 20 men they had.

Breaking inside another hallway Ned found himself and his two companions in front of another group of concentrated Lannister forces. _There are more men than we expected_, Ned thought asGreatjon Umber and Howland Reed followed his lead and cut down anyone that tried to attack Ned from behind.

He knew he should have tried to maintain calm, that to allow his anger to control him would only give his enemies the opportunity to kill him… but his fury couldn't be contained. After everything that had happened over the last day, after the death of his father and brother, the deaths of countless soldiers and banner men that he had lead, Ned couldn't stop now.

He cut the man in front of him easily enough which allowed three more to attack him from the back, all of whom met their end as the Greatjon cut them down as if they had never been there. Reed on the other side was on the defensive, this close quarters giving him very little room for him to employ his spear to its fullest ability, still he made do as all who faced him learnt.

It appeared that they had bitten more thatn they could chew this time, not that the Greatjon cared; he was laughing as he cut down first one, then two, and three more of Lannister bannerman. Ned however could only feel anger at his enemies. For every second wasted here meant another that could give another the opportunity to kill Aerys.

He knew that Tywin had sent men to kill the Mad King but Ned was not going to let that happen. He was going to have the honor of doing that himself. Robert had killed Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident and avenged Lyanna. Ned was going to avenge his father and brother.

Another soldier rushed at him but Ned easily swatted his attacks aside and knocked the man down with a single kick. Lifting his sword up, he plunged Ice down through the guard's chest plate and heart. The man gasped before blood coughed out of his mouth.

Yet that maneuver had cost him time, which an enemy swordsman had taken advantage to nearly separate his head from his neck. Only a quick movement by Reed had managed to stave off his execution, at least for a little while.

It was at that moment though when a commotion began behind the enemiy lines as more and more of their number began falling and dying; thus it was that Ned, the Greatjon and reed pressed their assault as more and more of the Lannister soldiers started falling against the unexpected onslaught

Some tried to surrender to the unexpected foe, yet the leader only cut them down.

Ser Mark Ryswell never spared in battle.

As the last soldier was killed Ser Ryswell cleaned his blade as he looked at Ned and the rest, of the 20 men he'd gone with, only 12 remained.

"I found the Great Hall milord."

Said with a straight face, the Greatjon burst out laughing and even Reed could not hold back a small smile.

"Cutting it a little close, didn't you Ryswell?" Said the Greatjon still laughing.

"You looked to be having fun." He replied, this time with a smile on his face.

"Let's go." Ned interrupted as he once more started moving, this time in the direction Ryswell had arrived. Howland, the Greatjon, and Ser Ryswell following close behind.

"I've received news from the rest" Ser Ryswell explained as they moved. "They have secured all the entrances and taken down both; the Lannister bannermen and the Targaryen guards. There are still some holdouts, but nothing to serious. Last they reported Ser Martyn was moving towards the White Sword tower, and Wull was right behind us to check the rest of the Holdfast. Lord Dustin is the one in charge of keeping the Lannisters out of the Red Keep."

"Good." Ned replied "we have the advantage, now we move for the kill."

They were met with two corpses of guards lying on the floor as they moved around a corner to the throne room doors, victims to Ser Ryswell attack no doubt. But what made him anxious was what they found further ahead; a Lannister bannerman, dead by a sword wound.

The Lannisters had already attacked here.

_How?_ Ned Thought. _They were supposed to still be trying to secure the castle's lower floors._

Ned did not waste any time, he immediately rushed to the entrance and kicked the doors open… and to his horror, he realized he was too late.

Lying sprawled face first on the floor was the silver haired King Aerys Targaryen.

Aerys was dead, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Two Lannister lords were around him, Lord Crakehall and Westerling he'd find out later, who were startled when the door was slammed open.

But at that moment he only had eyes for the corpse… and the man with the bloody sword.

He wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over his golden armor. Even his sword was gilded. Tall and golden haired, with flashing green eyes and look of surprise on his was no mistaking that face; the face of Ser Jaime Lannister, the youngest member of the Kingsguard.

_And now a traitor to it._

"Lord Eddard Stark." Jaime commented. Quickly recovering from the surprise, his face showed a sardonic smile upon the recipient "I must say I'm surprised that you're the first person to come running through that door."

Ned remained silent as he moved towards the corpse, his companions and the rest of his men at his side. Lords Crakehall and Westerling both retreated as they advanced, but Jaime remained right where he was; next to the dead body with a smile on his face.

He checked the king's pulse and nearly screamed in anger when he felt none. Aerys Targaryen had been his to kill. It was his duty to avenge his family, his right to kill the Mad King. And now that that had been taken from him.

"I think he just twitched. Best to take his head off just in case." Jaime mocked.

Ned glanced upwards at him, barely able to contain his anger as he once more rose to a standing position. The Greatjon had no compulsion as he released his own.

"Shut your mouth Lannister! Lest you find your tongue taken from you!"

"Is that a challenge, Ser Giant? Not very fair is it? Tell you what, your little friend with his stick over there can fight at your side. You might actually prove a threat then!"

Before Howland or the Greatjon could reply, they were both beaten to the punch by Ned's anger being released upon an unsuspecting Jaime Lannister.

"I wanted him dead by my hands," Ned said. He didn't shout, he didn't rage. He spoke with an ice cold anger which lent his word more potency. "Aerys was mine to kill."

_All that effort to get here faster._

_All those plans to beat the Lannisters to the Keep._

_All the fighting to arrive at the Great Halls before them._

_All for nothing._

As Ned looked at Jaime with pure loathing and contempt, both groups, the Northern and the Lannister, felt the tension in the room increasing. Like a fight could start at any minute.

"M-My Lord please," Lord Elys Westerling immediately interjected, afraid of what could break down "It is true that you have a most valid reason for wanting Aerys dead, but the deed is done now. Surely there is no need for fighting over a corpse?"

"That's right," Lord Roland Crakehall agreed with his fellow lord "The threat is now over, we can have peace now with the Royal family dead."

…

_What?_

"Did you-?"

As Ned moved his head towards Lord Crakehall, a question already passing his lips, he was beaten by another one with a voice more shocked than he had heard before.

"What do you mean?!"

Ned was surprised to hear the question; not so much for what it was, but from whom it had come from.

Ser Jaime Lannister, who just a second ago had been so confident and arrogant, now seemed a man on the verge of panic. Only the fact that the Northmen were in the same room seemed to be the only reason that prevented him from once more unsheathing his sword.

"What did you mean by that Lord Crakehall?! Answer Me!"

Lord Crakehall, who had shrunken on himself the moment Ser Jaime had shouted his first question, seemed to rally a little, and straighten himself before replying.

"W-Well M-My Lord, it's just a matter of course. Orders from Lord Tywin himself to get rid of the Royal Family so there would be no issue in Lord Robert's taking of the throne."

As the last words left his lips an interesting change came over the room. Ser Ryswell, Reed, the Greatjon all had faces of having heard the vilest act that a man could commit, but it was Ned's reaction which brought the Lannnister group short.

For Eddard Stark's face had gone completely still, and his eyes were as cold as an ice tundra.

He should be more surprised. He really should, but at this moment Ned felt complete rage. For understanding the kind of man that Tywin was he knew that he would do exactly as Lord Crakehall had said.

Rage was then joined by fear. While Aerys Targaryen deserved to die a thousand times over for what he did to his family, the rest of the Royal Family was innocent.

Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, even the recently born Aegon, should not be punished for the sins of their father, or their grandfather.

And looking at Ser Jaime's horrified face, he was of the same thought.

"Where is the rest of the Royal family?" demanded Ned.

"Near the top of the Keep. They have no way to escape …" Jaime said in a nearly shocked voice that Ned would never had thought would come from his lips.

Before anyone could move Ser Jaime took a hold of himself and rushed to the door, pausing slightly only to kick it open as he shouted at Ned.

"This way!"

Ned wasted no time as he started following, with a quick order of "Keep them here!" at Ser Ryswell he ran as quickly as he could, following Ser Jaime to the stairs and making his way upwards.

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

Ser Jaime had a lead but not a big one, soon Ned was right at his heels with the Greatjon and Reed following as well. They ran ever upwards, yet to Ned it seemed as if every step took a millennium to make.

_Please don't let me be too late again._

He'd failed in reaching King's Landing on time.

He'd failed in killing Aerys.

He would **not** fail Princess Elia and her children.

He would not let them be butchered.

_Robert will understand, he would not condone this._

It was as they neared one of the many levels of the tower that they saw a small group of Lannister soldiers blocking the way, with many more waiting across level yard.

Their shocked looks in their face showed that they didn't expect anyone to try to enter this place, especially Ser Jaime in the company of Northmen.

_They must be part of those stragglers that were left,_ passed absently through his mind. As Ned made ready to strike Jaime hesitated, but they were shoved aside as the Greatjon moved past them roaring in a loud voice towards his enemies.

"Out of my way!" He yelled as he swung his greatsword through the guards, killing two of the swordmen at once, giving the opportunity to both Ned and Jaime to pass quickly through them and continue on.

As the Lannister bannermen saw their members being killed they quickly moved from the yard to pursue, yet they quickly found themselves blocked by both the Greatjon and Reed who faced them down before they could go very far.

"Go My lord!" said Reed as he and the Greatjon blocked the stairs from the rest of the soldiers as they attempted to pursue.

Ned could only nod quickly as he once more took to the stairs, Ser Jaime at his side.

It was as they reached the top that the thought crossed his mind.

_Can I trust him?_ He thought, _can I trust a man who can break solemn vows?_

And yet, the look of anguish as he had heard about the death of the Royal family, his immediate actions in leading him here. They seemed genuine, but who could tell if it was another act.

But there was little choice at the moment, they were nearing the top and already he could hear noises.

They were at the door when they heard the screaming; a high voice which could only belong to a grown woman weeping and screaming hysterically, and a roar that could only belong to a beast which attempted to drown her voice.

Ned rushed to the entrance as he and Ser Jaime pushed the door open, just in time to see a scene from the realm of nightmares being committed.

Inside there was the huge massive frame of a man, nearly the same size as him when on his knees, straddling a beaten and crying woman.

_Princess Elia,_ he thought clinically, as she cowered and tried to protect herself from the terrible onslaught that the man had been inflicting.

As Ned advanced towards the turning figure of this man, more details were visible. His shoulders were massive which were needed in order to fully swing those arms which were as thick as the trunk of small trees.

His armor was made of the thickest plate he had seen before, _No man should be able to move in it_, yet as the man turned he could see the three black dogs in a field of yellow that was his sigil.

His eyes, filled with a blood rage like a wild animal, saw that he was not alone.

He moved to react, yet his massive sword was not near him, having put it aside when no soldiers were in sight. Ned was able to close the gap between them just as he moved Ice in a cutting strike to end his foe's life before he could stand.

Nevertheless what should have have been a finshing strike failed, as the giant moved his arm with a wild swing to protect himself.

Ned's strike hit a vulnerable weak point in his armor, which allowed the Valyrian steel sword to cut not only the protection, but his arm from the elbow down as well.

The massive man screamed in mad rage and pain as he attempted to stand, but that only gave Ned the necessary time to put his sword in a stabbing position, and as the giant turned his head to once more look at him, he saw only the tip of Ice right before it entered through his neck.

The moment between the strike and his death stretched for a long time, until the dead body slumped and fell to the ground with a mighty clang.

As Ned took deep breaths after the entire confrontation while removing his sword from the dead body, he could not help but reflect on his luck somewhat. The man seemed to be one of great strength and skill, and while he himself possessed skill with his sword, in the end the run from the Great Hall and the fights against many other opponents before facing the gigantic man had taken its toll on him.

_I was lucky, _He thought, _that_ _he never expected an enemy at this place._

He approached the princess, and his eyes could finally take notice of her state.

She had bruising all over her face, from the way she held herself she might have them in other places as well. Her dress was ripped in various places, and her eyes were red from the crying.

As she tried to put herself in an upright position once more Ned could see the despair and desperation battling with shock in them.

"My lady, please don't exert yourself." He said as he kneeled by her and tried to aid her.

"R-Rhaenys…" She whispered, breaking from her shock, at least for a while.

"What? Milady…"

She grabbed his arm and looked at him with desperation and histeria in her face. She kept asking for her daughter in a tone, growing more and more hysterical as she continued.

"RHAENYS! S-She is… Where is she!? She is not-! Not Safe, Please! Please you have to find her!"

_Princess Rhaenys_, He thought. She had to be around hiding somewhere, and Princess Elia kept on begging him to find her. As Ned was answering her, there suddenly came a sound from further on, near one of the rooms.

"What was that?"

At Ser Jaime's query Princess Elia seemed to stop and look in the direction of the noise. She tried to get up only to fail giving a cry of pain as Ned helped her once more.

"Princess please, you can't move in you condition" Ned gently admonished.

"B-But-!"

Seeing that Princess Elia would try to get to her daughter at any cost Ned had no other choice.

"I'll get your daughter. I promise."

At that she started to calm down once more, looking at him with intensity as if searching for any falsehood in his face. Satisfied, she stopped trying to get up as her breathing calmed.

She was in no condition to move, yet he could not leave her alone either. And although he was not yet sure of his loyalties, every second wasted meant another possibility where Princess Rhaenys could die.

"Please stay here, Ser Jaime will look after you."

As the words left his lips Ned stood up once more as he looked severely at Ser Jaime.

_I'll trust you here_, _don't make me regret it._

It was not a lightly made decision, yet Ser Jaime's actions so far had showed that if he didn't care for his vows, he had to care for the Royal family.

Aside from a quick nod and moving to Princess Elia's side, Ser Jaime made no other gesture of having understood the message.

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

Once more, with Ice in his hand, Ned moved through the hallway. Passing many doors as no sound came from them.

_The sound earlier was closer to an armored foot scrapping the floor, which means there might be another man here._

If so, then he had to find Princess Rhaenys before him. The huge man had been a challenge by himself, and while he would still fight to protect them he would prefer to find the princess first. Once that was done then he would have to find a safe place for the entire Royal Family until Robert finally arrived.

_And once that's done Tywin will have a lot to answer for._

Sacking the capital, killing innocents, attempting to murder infants…

Wait.

_Where is Prince Ae-?_

His thoughts were interrupted as he once more heard the odd sound, now joined with another ones.

An armored foot scratching the floor, a child's cry being muffled, a near silent _"Quiet."_ …and the sound of fear that came from that voice as well.

Former thoughts now forgotten, Ned held Ice at the ready as he once more kicked a door open.

_This is becoming a habit lately._ His mind supplied to his exasperation, which vanished completely as he saw the picture in front of him.

A portly man of average height stood there, his face could be better described as having pig like characteristics with small pig-like eyes that at the moment shined with fear. Yet it was not those eyes, nor the armor which had grabbed his attention. It had been the sword.

The sword which at the moment he held at Princess Rhaenys neck.

"Now, w-we are go-o-ing to d-do t-this My w-way... D-Drop your Sword!" The fat knight tried to scream.

It would have been more effective had his voice not broken at least twice.

Uncertainty and tremors could be heard in his voice, making him sound rather like a woman in fright. Had they met in any other situation Ned would have never taken this man seriously.

"Let her go-"

"DON'T!" He shouted, holding the Princess tighter around her throat. She gave a small whimper at the treatment.

"D-Don't th-think that y-y-you can talk t-to me like that! I h-have her! I have the c-control here! Y-You do as I-I say and D-DROP YOUR S-SWORD!"

_This is bad_, Ned thought, _he is losing it._

While Ned maintained a cold look over his features, his mind was racing with possibilities.

How to stop this man before he killed the princess?

_I can't just let him walk, he will never release her. But still, perhaps…_

Ned focused on the scene in front of him, so much that he missed the sounds of someone coming from behind. He felt the sharp edge of a sword in his neck and saw the look of fear in the knight's face being replaced by relief.

"Now Lord Stark" Said the mocking voice of Ser Jaime, "how about you listen to what Ser Lorch said and drop your weapon."

_I shouldn't have trusted him._

A thought that intruded just as anger appeared in his features, the relief in the knight's face (Ser Lorch apparently) was every bit as disgusting as the smug look that started to appear. Here was a man that was in the end nothing more than a coward.

And yet, he had to yield for now. If he died then there was no one to save Rhaenys, if he could only stall for time…

"Don't make me repeat myself 'Milord'. Drop it. Now"

He dropped his sword.

Ser Jaime kept the edge of his blade at his neck while he moved around Ned facing him and putting himself between Ser Lorch, all the while the smile never left his face.

Ser Lorch panted as the fear left him, his voice recovering strength as he seemed to sag in himself as he haltingly and tiredly spoke. "S-ser Jaime, thank the Seven! I was beginni-"

Just as he was relaxing he moved his blade a short distance from Rhaenys' neck.

It was all that was needed.

Quick as lightning the sword was kicked from his hands, and just as his face began to once more contort, this time in astonishment, a blade pierced through a small chink in his chainmail, moving right through his heart.

It was an impossible maneouver, both in execution and timing a simple swordsman could not have made that quick a kill.

But then again, Ser Jaime's inductment to the Kingsguard had not been completely for show.

As Lorch's body fell to the ground Ser Jaime slid his sword out of his body and held himself at ease, pointing it at the floor.

Ned had prepared himself, for the moment Ser Jaime had moved he had dove for his sword, and now he held it at the ready against him.

Which was a little awkward, since once Lorch had died princess Rhaenys had ran towards him, using him as a shield against Ser Jaime as she buried her face on his body, still scared of what might happen.

"What? No 'thanks for saving the princess'? I'm wounded, truly"

"What was that?" Ned growled. He was in no mood for joking at the moment

Ser Jaime might have picked on that, or perhaps he simply thought he was asking about the situation. Nevertheless, he continued with that sardonic tone.

"This," he said pointing with his sword at the dead body, "is Ser Amory Lorch, one of my father's bannerman, and perhaps one of the nastiest pieces of work of the Westerlands, topped mainly by the Knight you killed in the other room, Ser Gregor Clegane."

"Never heard of them" Ned replied sceptically, still with his eyes on him.

Jaime just smirked. "Rumours about their infamy are mostly contained in my father's domain, not too much of a chance to spread any further than that yet. Although from what you hear from Ser Clegane…" He stopped there, as he quickly banished a thought and continued.

"Anyways, Ser Lorch is known to me mainly from what I heard from my sister, if there is anything remarkable of him is that he has the ability to toady to those stronger than him, and be completely ruthless to those that can't fight back. In short: a coward. He was panicking when I came. One wrong move and the Princess might have died, so I acted."

All through the explanation Ned had been trying to find any falsehood in his words, yet all evidence pointed to what he'd said.

"You're welcome" He finished with a slight bow.

"What about Princess Elia" Was Ned's reply.

"Your Giant and his little friend arrived shortly after you left, they should be looking after her."

"And they allowed you to just come for me?" He asked with disbelief.

"In their defense, you left me alone with the Princess. That seemed to reassure them that you trusted me enough."

A small whimper could be heard from Princess Rhaenys hiding her face on Ned's leg.

Looking down for a second to check on her found her neck somewhat bruised but thankfully it was not a life threatening injury.

Still, for that man to harm a child… He was no Knight.

Looking at Ser Jaime showed him looking in Rhaenys direction with a worried look in his face before he quickly vanished it once more.

_In the end… He cared for them, even if he didn't care for his vows._

Ned slowly relaxed his guard and bent down to speak with Princess Rhaenys.

"It's alright," He said in a kind voice, "The bad men are gone… They can't hurt you anymore."

The princess looked at him through tear stained eyes as his words seemed to take hold.

"T-the… H-he killed, H-he said he k-killed Balerion, and that Mama and Aegon w-were dead!" She said in a half crying voice

Ned soothed her and held her gently as he reassured her.

"I assure you milady your mother is fine, I'll take you to her. As for your brother… I'll find him, I promise."

His gentle reassurances seemed to be calming her as she looked at him in his eyes… and gave a hesitant nod.

"Alright," Ned replied as he stood and extended his hand, "Now, let's take you back to your mother."

All through this exchange Ned had been looking at Ser Jaime just in case. He needn't have bothered, for Ser Jaime seeing the Princess safe seemed to be unwinding from all the tension that had filled him earlier and was quite willing to let Lord Stark take the lead.

Princess Rhaenys took his hand and Ned lead her out of the room, Ser Jaime at her other side.

It was as they moved that the entire night's events finally hit Ned full force. He never stopped walking, but his mind and body seemed to final unwind from everything that had just happened.

The Lannisters had had joined their side by Sacking King's Landing. Thousands of innocents were dead because of their treachery and dishonor.

Aerys was dead, killed by one of his Kingsguard members, the very one who was walking with him. Aerys had been him to kill, and for that Ned still felt some ember remains of anger in him.

_And yet…_

Ser Jaime, who had killed the king and joked about it before had also panicked and done everything possible to save Princess Elia and Rhaenys when he heard of what was planned for them, even going against his own father's bannermen for it.

_Could a right act compensate for a dishonorable one?_

He was not sure, he would still have to talk to Robert about what happened here. Tywin will probably be there as well, once more trying to ingratiate himself to the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

_I'm…_

And finally, there was Lyanna to consider. She had not been with Rhaegar in the field, and so far there was no sign of her in King's Landing. So where had the madman hidden her?

_I'm very tired…_

Ever since the journey began, his emotions had been moving with great speed through his body; anger, fear, surprise, shock, sadness… They all alternated between themselves so frequently that it was all he could do to maintain a stoic façade.

_I want to go home…_

Once this was over, when Lyanna was safe, he would go to the North taking Catelyn with him, and the Gods willing never more set foot outside of it again.

All his dark musings lasted enough for the group to reach Princess Elia, who was now being guard by Howland Reed at her side, while giving the Greatjon fearful looks.

_Should have expected it…_

And then the princess caught sight of them, her eyes homed in on Rhaenys, who let go of Lord Stark's hand and ran towards her.

Both mother and daughter reunited once more in a crying embrace as they released their fears and just felt glad to once more be together.

And As Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell looked upon this scene, the last embers of his anger disappeared, for this moment at least his worries were non-existent as he saw the happy reunion of Mother and Daughter.

_Perhaps…it will all be alright in the end._

A man could hope.


	2. The Proud Lion

**Author's notes**: Well, here it is. The second part of this story.

Sorry it took so long, but this character is incredibly difficult to write. Too many times I had to go back and re-read what I had just wrote asking myself if he would really do that.

Finally, I think that I have maaged to obtain a good perspective of the character, and I hope you enjoy it.

As always reviews are welcome for future chapters.

So, without further ado, please enjoy.

* * *

"_And who are you the proud lord said that I must bow so low"_

"Opening Lines from: 'The Rains of Castamere'."

**Chapter 2: The Proud Lion**

Imagine if you will a city. A city that is near the bay.

There is a port where the wares come in. There are houses for both the rich and the poor. There is even a Sept for the faithful to gather.

Yes, this city could be one in a hundred of those existing. And yet, it has the pleasure of being unique as well.

For you see, this particularly mentioned place has the most peculiar characteristic that distinguishes it from any other in all of Westeros.

This is the capital of the entire Seven Kingdoms, and it is known by its official name of King's Landing.

It has grown in power beyond any expectation in the entire Seven Kingdoms, both politically and economically, in only three hundred years. It already outshines far more established cities that have existed since long before the Andal invasions.

Situated along the Kingsroad at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and overlooking Blackwater Bay. The site of the Iron Throne and the Red Keep, the seat of the king.

The main city is surrounded by a wall, manned by its city watch, also known as the gold cloaks.

The city is extremely populous, but rather unsightly and dirty compared to others.

Poorer smallfolk build shanty settlements outside it. The stench of its waste can be smelled far beyond its walls. It is the principal harbor of the Seven Kingdoms, rivaled only by Oldtown.

There are seven gates leading into it: the Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, the Mud Gate, the Old Gate, the Gate of the Gods, the King's Gate, and the Iron Gate. Within the walls, the city is dotted with manses, arbors, granaries, brick storehouses, timbered inns, merchant stalls, taverns, graveyards and brothels.

There is a fish market. Hundreds of quays can be found in the harbor. Between buildings the roads are broad, lined with trees and branching alleys and streets.

The city covers the north shore of the Blackwater and covers three tall hills, named after Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys.

Aegon's High Hill, surmounted by the Red Keep, the royal castle located in the south-eastern corner of the city.

Visenya's Hill to the west is crowned by the marble-walled Great Sept of Baelor and its seven crystal towers.

Rhaenys's Hill in the north is capped by the collapsed ruins of the Dragonpit dome, its bronze doors shut for a century and a half since the last dragon died.

The poor reside in the slums which are called Flea Bottom, a maze of narrow streets and alleys, where many beggars and the poorest part of it's population resides; they regularly subsist on "bowls of brown", a mystery stew that can include the meat of rats and murder victims, among other things.

This is the city of King's Landing, the seat of power over all Westeros despite its youth.

Winterfell, the city said to have been built by giants. Made by Bran the Builder himself, it was certainly older.

Casterly Rock, the fortress which is carved out of a great stone hill with its natural defenses, further enhanced with walls and other structures had existed since the age of heroes.

Highgarden, seat of House Gardener before they faced the Targaryens. Now the seat of House Tyrell, could claim to have existed before the dragons arrived.

Riverrun, where the Tumblestone river meets the fork is certainly over a thousand years old. And that was for the time that was held by House Tully.

The Eyrie, several thousand feet above the valley floor below. Considered impregnable to attack with its seven great towers to defend themselves is much older.

Storm's End, one of the strongest castles in the Stormlands, the ancestral seat of the Storm Kings extending back many thousands of years.

Sunspear, a walled settlement, protected by three massive winding walls encircling one another. It's more a town than a proper city, yet its founding proves its age.

All these cities, all with a history, a wealth, a Legacy far grander than the one place by the coast, yet they are all still seen as lacking by the inhabitants of the continent.

For you see, King's Landing was something greater.

It was an ideal, a symbol of Targaryen might and otherworldliness comparable to the Dragons they rode, or the Iron Throne on which they sat.

For it was their grand statement to the Kings of Westeros from before the unification, that their greatest cities, their grand armies, were nothing to the might of the Targaryens, who could build a new city on the very place where they landed, and make them pay homage to it.

And it succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. King's Landing was revered and respected as the center of the Seven Kingdoms despite its youth.

Yet, perhaps one should have warned them, because as many people have said, and will continue to say: Pride cometh before the fall.

And what a fall it was.

Imagine now this grand city, the symbol of conquest, the symbol of Targaryen Might, the symbol of unity…

Now burned, looted, and left to die like some common street whore.

Bodies of all kinds; men, women, children, littered the streets. Family members looking for loved ones crying as they found them. Looters congregated seeking to take what they could before anyone else noticed. The already rotting bodies being dragged by its inhabitants under the watchful eyes of the very soldiers to have invaded and destroyed great part of it.

Houses were wrecked and burnt, with the destruction being more prevalent in the slums were many of its buildings were made of wood. The rich were not unharmed either, many opportunities for the soldiers to loot after all. Many possessions, belonging to the rich and the poor alike, were lost.

All around great columns of smoke still rose towards the heavens obscuring the sun, clouds of ash lending the aftermath a dark and depressing atmosphere.

This was the fate of the city built by pride and conquest. The seat of Targaryen Kings had now been reduced, like its own motto, to Fire and Blood.

And though the fire had been controlled and no longer rampaged through the residences, though the soldiery had stopped its discriminating killing and looting, it could not be said that the tribulations were over.

The city was no longer in flames… It was now under siege.

It was a strange state of affairs at the moment.

And finally, the grand mastermind behind the sacking and burning, behind all the calamities to befall upon the smallfolk… is asleep at the moment in one of the surviving structures.

Or at least, he was asleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Is it morning?_

Those were the first thoughts that came through Tywin Lannister's mind as his eyes opened and laid sight upon the house he was staying.

It was not an impressive residence. More closer to a hovel than a true house and situated closer to Flea Bottom than Rhaenys Hill, yet it would have to be enough for the task ahead.

He certainly did not expect for matters to last longer than two days.

_I also did not expect to be suddenly attacked._

He stopped that thought before it could go any further. He acknowledged that he'd been surprised yet thinking about it would not help now.

Now, he had to retaliate.

He had slept in the tunic that he'd worn last night under his armor, this particular establishment did not possess any place to clean his clothes, so he would have to wear it once more. Not that it worried him overmuch, he'd worn worse on campaigns.

_This wasn't supposed to be a campaign._

He rose from what could be named a bed and called for his squires to help him once more into his armor. If he had time to think about this fiasco then it was time to move ahead with the business of the day.

The two squires, from House Plumm and House Moreland respectively, set to the task given. As they worked Tywin tried to focus in the present and drive the thoughts of the past from his mind. Unsuccessfully in the end, as they seemed to have a life of their own.

After all, in both occasions a Stark was involved.

He still remembered, that day one year ago when the news of Lord Rickard Stark's death had been announced to the entire realm, and the shock that was on everyone's face but his own. He remembered talking with Kevan then, about the many different Lords and how they would not take this action sitting down.

After all, if Aerys could kill a Lord in good standing with that mockery of a trial, even before the gods, then what was stopping him from doing the same to them as well? Had Aerys sticked to the smallfolk or lesser nobility he could have continued on until his natural death. Now that he threatened the Great Lords, Tywin predicted that the first action would come from the North and their vassals, and would be at least accompanied by the Riverlands.

Never had he imagined that Jon Arryn would be the first to raise his banners, nor that Robert Baratheon would also join him alongside Eddard Stark, the second born of Lord Rickard. These three completely changed the dynamic of what should have been a brief yet bloody revolt. A show of strength to once more reinforce the idea of royal strength and the futility to stand against them

Suddenly there was cause to really worry for the Targaryens.

Not that Aerys cared, even then he dismissed the idea that the rebels might be able to kill him, or even harm him at all.

_Perhaps believing himself to actually be a dragon_. Tywin thought scornfully.

It had taken three battles, two which were rebel victories, until that fool actually realized the danger that the rebels represented.

Not that it actually bothered him, he had taken a course of neutrality among the parties, a wise course especially when Hoster Tully joined the rebels.

Tywin had sat at Casterly Rock and patiently waited, ignoring King Aerys' orders to take arms, taking no side until he heard the news of the Trident.

Robert Victorious. Rhaegar killed by his hands. The Loyalist army scattered to the seven winds

It was only after that battle that Tywin mustered his forces and rode for the capital city of King's Landing

Despite what his retainers might have thought, it had not been a pleasure when he heard the news of Robert's victory in the Trident. He still owed payback to Aerys for the humiliation given when he refused to marry Rhaegar to his daughter, that much was true, and perhaps any other person might feel content with the current fate of the Targaryens.

However, he was not like most people. And where others might see the final resolution of their vengeance, he saw the repercussions that would follow from such an act.

Both Aerys and Rhaegar were in the end a known quantity. He could see the patterns they would enter in, and knew their way of thinking well enough to make countermeasures against them. There were many different ways in which he could have payed them back for the indignity perpetrated against his house.

But now…

_Now, there is a new untested Lord who would be the ruler of us all._

Robert Baratheon, the first son of Lady Cassana and Lord Steffon Baratheon, head of House Baratheon and lord of the Stormlands. A man who embarked in this war not for survival or justice…but to rescue his betrothed from the clutches of the Crowned Prince.

The peasants loved it, they all loved the story of the dragon being slayed and the princess being saved by the gallant hero.

A child in a man's body would be a better description.

Not that the smallfolk knew better, to them Robert Baratheon must seem a grander than life figure, whose every blemish and eccentricity was to be forgiven and dismissed.

_Yet… wasn't that something? That the leader of a rebellion to depose a 300 year old dynasty just happened to be nothing more than a battle crazy, whore mongering Man-child? _

Why, exactly?

Because of his blood.

Yes, because his grandmother just happened to be a Targaryen, _because we have all seen how __**Wonderful**__ having a Targaryen is_. He thought scornfully.

_The Seven love to play their tricks on us. They were the ones who took …_

He closed that line thought! He closed it, buried it and hoped that never more it reached the light of day again!

_Joanna…_

Quickly his mind changed tracks, he was in critical stage of planning for his family standing, Go back to before…

Robert Baratheon was an unknown, he certainly hadn't met him personally, nor given him much thought either. Only someone who had not yet learned to control his most basic impulses and desires.

But that could be used, after all such a man will need advice at every turn, and nothing that had been heard about him mentioned that he had a head for statecraft.

The man could fight and command an army, yet he would be utterly incompetent when it came to ruling, of that he was sure.

_Not that there is anyone who can rule among them._

Jon Arryn? He was sentimental fool whose defiance had only made him loose what few heirs he possessed. Even his marriage to Lisa Tully was unlikely to produce new ones.

As for Eddard Stark…

"All done sire."

His contemplations were abruptly interrupted as his squires had fitted him with his armor, which was as kept as it could be.

He gave a cursory nod as they handed him his sword and left the wretched place. Stepping out he got a good look on the area surrounding Rhaenys' Hill.

Flea Bottom, what the slum area of King's Landing was called. A down-trodden area of town. It usually had a stench of pigsties and stables, tanner's sheds mixed in with the smell of wine sinks and whorehouses.

There was a maze of twisty, unpaved alleys and cross-streets below the Street of Flour on the way down the west side of Rhaenys' Hill. The buildings leaned over the narrow alleys, almost touching.

_A disgusting place for disgusting people._

Then again, there was hardly any people around, only his soldiers who were stretched thin having to patrol the entirety of the city for any dissident or any peasant with a grudge. What should have been a quick decapitation strike had turned now into an occupation of a sullen city.

The Red Keep, where he should be staying not this pathetic and filthy place, was now host to nearly the entire Northern Cavalry, alongside their lord.

_Eddard Stark._

Robert's best friend, second son to Lord Rickard Stark. The spare, who no one ever expected to inherit…And now the one who had ruined his plans for making sure his House and family ended on the winning side.

His hands unconsciously clenched in anger, yet the scowl on his face never wavered or gave a hint tow-

"You look like shit."

His head turned quickly to where that comment came from. His temper already frayed from earlier thoughts, was ready to burst.

Yet his self-control quickly resurfaced, a good thing as they met the eyes of the one man who cared not for his power, threats or authority.

A full mane of golden hair that ran past his shoulders, no beard in his face since he shaved at every opportunity, a tall robust physique which complemented his long muscled arms.

But it was those green emerald eyes which radiated contempt and hatred which always drew his attention.

_I would pluck them out were you not my brother._

"A message Tygett?" He asked

Tygett's face bristled with a look of pure anger at the implied insult towards him. Which didn't surprise Tywin at all, this was always the situation between the both of them.

Tygett Lannister, a man of powerful passions… and an even more powerful hatred. He would never bow to his brother's authority, and as a result he was never fully trusted and on any possible occasion given mediocre tasks.

_At least until he learns his place._

A pity, for the man was a warrior born, his skill with the sword could be compared to a member of the Kingsguard, and his skill as a general was still above average indeed. Yet there was a flaw in his ability, and it was that he could lose himself in battle, hacking and slashing until there was no one else to stand against him.

Gerion had once joked that if ever killed in battle Tygett would still swing his sword until there was no one else in the battlefield.

Tygett took it as a compliment.

_Which shows which one has the brains in the family._

"Well?"

Tygett slowly took deep breaths to calm himself until he once more could look at Tywin without breaking into shouts, he can at least show some self-control, Tywin thought as he focused on the words coming from his brother.

"Kevan requests your presence. Some sort of important news coming in." Tygett nearly spat.

Tywin nodded his head as he called to one of his squires still in the house.

When the squire arrived Tywin gave his orders without breaking eye contact with his brother. "Get two horses, and then make yourself useful to the captain assigned to this area."

The squire nodded quickly as he left, leaving the two brothers alone for the moment.

The silence stretched between the both of them. Tywin, never being a man of many words, was willing to stay silent until Tygett decided to speak.  
Which he did after a while.

"I'll get back to my own men now" He said, the scowl never leaving his face as he started to move in the direction of the Gate of the Gods.

"No, you won't." Tywin replied.

The note in his tone of voice halted Tygett without the need for him to move from his place.

"You'll be coming with me." He continued, "If Kevan deems this meeting important then I don't want to have to call upon you again."

Tygett turned to look directly to his face. His face looked murderous, his anger rose to the fore once more.

"Then get a messenger and relay the news."

The squire returned with the horses, saw the tense stand-off between the two brothers, and wisely remained silent with the two horses as he gave a quick bow.

"That's your job," Tywin coldly replied as his squire helped him climb his horse, "Now get on your horse and follow."

Tywin rode never looking back.

_He knows better than to defy me at this juncture_, he thought.

True enough, soon he could hear the noise of Tygett's horse besides his own as he moved towards Aegor's Hill.

He didn't have to look back to know his brother would be stewing in impotent anger as he followed.

As they moved he saw the results of their attack. The streets were as deserted as the ones left behind. Moving through blackened areas and ruined buildings he could clearly see the devastation brought forth by his own soldiers to this people.

_The captain removed the bodies_, he thought, _no chance of disease hitting us._

_Perhaps we could send some in Stark's way?_

Already they were approaching the entrance to Aegon's Hill where he could see part of his assembled army already behind fortifications made to begin a siege. Most of the materials seemed to be pieces from destroyed houses.

_I wonder how much money Robert will borrow to repair the city._

That was one of the benefits of his wealth, it could buy so many things, both in materials and influence… especially influence.

_By this time next year, no one will even remember what my troops did. Only what my money gave them._

He entered the encampment, and saw the flowing Banners of his Lords fluttering in the breeze.

There on the distance he could see the golden wreath on blue with a gold border sigil of House Algood. They had stood loyal during both, the period when his father's weakness had nearly destroyed his House, and again during the Reyne rebellion. They were dependable.

Next to it was the hooded man, black on grey within a fiery tressure of House Banefort. The leader, Lord Quenten Banefort, was a man that like his sigil could stand silent and ready to obey any orders given. A perfect subordinate indeed.

In the distance, the three beetles in a field of yellow could be seen, with the men of House Bettley readying arms for the day. Yet not as quickly or as swiftly as those of House Brax next to them, the purple unicorn in Silver proudly flapping in the breeze.

_Lord Brax may still feel sore about that rejection._

Lord Andros Brax, a corpulent man whose everlasting loyalty was usually enough for Tywin to overlook his lack of wits and imagination. However Hoster Tully did not, as he certainly made him know when he went to Riverrun to ask for a match between his heirs and Hoster's daughters just to be soundly rejected.

_And now he faces the one whom Hoster did approve of._

Or did he…? Catelyn Tully was to be married to Brandon Stark before the entire Kingdom was embroiled in the same madness that Rhaegar had succumbed to, and when he was killed Hoster was offered a replacement, and the opportunity to have connections to both the North and the Vale with the marriage of Lisa Tully to Jon Arryn.

_Perhaps a similar arrangement could be made once this situation has passed… Jaime will need a bride eventually._

Thoughts of his son brought him back to the present, as he and Tygett moved through the camp, and closer to the hill, he could start to see the Red Keep in all his glory…

With the Direwolf emblem proudly flying in its encampments.

"M-My Lord" A squeaking voice called.

Tywin looked down towards the speaking man, a page no doubt by the lack of spine and the fearful look on his face, but looking closer he could see the kept armor that he wore, as well as the white unicorn on green and black raven on white sigil on his chest.

_House Doggett._

A true disappointment if there ever was one, that one of the more noble houses in the Westerlands just so happen to be without any redeemable qualities… No courage in a fight, no intelligence in deals, and only surviving by the luck of having capable subordinates.

_The Seven love to play his tricks._

Even so, they were still a noble house, and due honor had to be given to them. They would make a mistake soon enough, and then he could finally get rid of them.

The man had not spoken yet, Tywin's usual scowling look having robbed him of his words.

The pure incompetence of this buffon was irritating to him especially since he was wasting time that could be used for better things.

_They should learn better than to send this worthless craven to deliver a message._

Tygett shared his opinions it seemed, he beat him to the punch just before he could make his displeasure known.

"Stop this sniveling behavior and deliver the message. NOW!"

Tygett's face was filled with rage, as the young man shrank in himself before replying in a tiny voice.

"L-Lord K-K-Kevan w-w-waits f-for y-you, h-he S-set the M-main T-Tent near H-house F-foote and House H-h-hamell."

Tygett grew more and more exasperated hearing him stutter through what should be a single sentence that for a moment Tywin actually thought that he would lose what little restraint he had.

"Good." Tygett replied in a deceptively low voice. "Now, LEAVE!"

The man startled and gave a shriek of fear as he fell on his bottom and scurried away before being able to get up and run as if the Stranger himself was chasing him.

"Finally…"

Tywin didn't reply, only moved his horse to the place where he could see the emblems of both, House Foote and House Hamell.

_There._

Just at the entrance to Aegon's Hill, near the troops from House Plumm, the three purple rondels on gold showing despite the many other sigils around.

Passing through the men who were making way and inclining their heads in respect, were the two standards of House Foote and House Hamell. A copper dagger across a black chevron on white, and an erminois maunch on pink with an erminois border respectively.

The mentioned tent was big enough from the outside, enough to accommodate a gathering of his Lords and captains…If some of them remained standing and others were simply not summoned.

_Not like they all need to know everything._

Both Tywin and Tygett dismounted their horses as they reached the tent, giving the reins to a couple of squires who were waiting outside, and entered preparing themselves for the work of the day.

The command tent was indeed roomy inside, with a great table where many people could sit, and space enough so that others could stand around it as well. Banners of house Lannister where hung about, and a great desk with important documents was at the side.

He wasn't worried, any who dared to touch them would not live long anyways.

Tywin's arrival was not unnoticed, the moment he entered he was immediately greeted, as was his due, by all the Lords and captains there.

"Welcome Milord, we are ready to do your bidding." Said the high and blustering voice of Lord Andros Brax. With nearly all the other Lords agreeing with the statement or giving similar greetings.

Tywin continued on, neither responding nor acknowledging the greetings of his subjects. He arrived at the grand table and took a seat at its head. Only when he had done so did the rest of his Lords were allowed to do the same.  
From the Noble Houses, to the Knightly Houses.

When everyone had been seated he spoke.

"What is the situation?"

He did not bother asking any of his Lords there. From Sebaston Farman to Reginard Estren, from Andros Brax to Antario Jast, they all knew better than to think that Lord Tywin directed the question at them.

Such news would always come first from the thick waisted man with rounded shoulders and fair skin.

"We have begun construction of siege fortifications at the entrance to the Red Keep," The man began, "we will then begin to expand them more around it, we'll also make sure that there are no blind spots. However, there is currently a lack of construction material…"

Tywin just looked at the speaker. "I saw our men using the remnants of the burned houses and using them for makeshift walls. There should be enough there." He said in a calm, yet hard tone.

"The main problem," The man replied, "lies in that the residences ruined by the fire are limited, and we have a great perimeter to blockade. As we-"

"Use the intact ones then," Tywin interrupted in a cold voice. "Anyone that opposes us can join the dead in complaining."

The speaker stayed quiet for a second before he replied "Of course milord… this will however not endear the people towards us." He said, trying to put it in a delicate way.

Tywin fixed him with a cold look as he replied in a testing tone. "And why should we care, Kevan?"

Kevan stopped talking for a moment as he maintained eye contact. Many would have thought him to be paralyzed with fear; not Tywin though. He knew his brother well enough to know that if he took this long, then he was mainly gathering and organizing his thoughts.

"I think," Kevan slowly replied, "That with the situation as volatile as it is at the moment, we cannot afford to further alienate the people of King's Landing."

Kevan Lannister was not like his other brother, both in looks and personality. Where Tygett was aggressive, Kevan was placid. Where Tygett was tall and powerfully built, Kevan was medium sized and already spotted a pot belly and a double chin in his face where he grew a small goatee in order to hide it better.

But perhaps the main difference between them was that while Tygett fought and raged against his authority, Kevan had simply recognized Tywin's superiority at an early age. Therefore, he was comfortable doing his duty to realize his brother's wishes, though this meant perpetually living in his shadow.

Not that this came without any benefits. Tywin had recognized his reliability and loyalty by making him his unnoficial second-in-command, elevating him above many others, including Tygett who could only stare at Kevan with a look of contempt.

Yet many who believe him to be only a follower are nothing but fools.  
While willing to work for his brother in any task, Kevan was also willing to give his earnest and honest advice about Tywin's plans. The fact that he did not do this often was only because they mostly had the same ideas and ways of action.

Except here apparently.

"When we embarked on this course of action, our projected goals were to take the city, capture the King and his family in one quick strike before Lord Baratheon arrived. Thereby proving our loyalty to his cause." Kevan said.

The Lords assembled all nodded their heads or made sounds of agreement, no one mentioning the real orders given by Lord Tywin regarding the King and Royal family.

_Are they dead? Did Clegane and Lorch fulfilled their mission before Stark arrived?_

"However," He continued "due to circumstances beyond our control, we now find ourselves having to sustain a siege inside a city that we have just recently put to the torch, while at the same time trying to maintain another siege to a fortification inside said city."

At that Tygett's look of anger seemed to increase. He had suggested in a past meeting to attack Stark in the Red Keep with overwhelming force before turning and doing the same to the army outside the gates.

The plan had been rejected, too much risk, and there was every inclination to believe that Stark's army would attack the moment they heard the sound of battle.

"Even with the amount of men we possess, we can't maintain fortifications on both sides while at the same time dispatch more soldiers to prevent unrest among the people. They have lost nearly all they have, they are desperate. Any aggressive movement now could unleash a massive riot among them, which will give Lord Stark or his army the opening needed to attack us."

_And we can't obtain reinforcements from the Westerlands at this juncture. I have to make do with the number of soldiers at my command._

12,000 Men. While it seemed big enough one had to consider that Stark's host had nearly the same amount of men, and they did not had to divide them more than they already had.

He could not attack the Red Keep without being attacked by the army led by Lord Karstark at the gates. He could not attack said army without being attacked by Lord Stark with his cavalry.

_Now, I can't build more siege fortifications without inciting a riot._

Although no physical change was seen, Tywin's mood seemed to grow grimmer as this realization spread through the rest of the Lords in the tent. With many muttering among themselves about different ways that they might be able to obtain more material for construction.

All were useless of course, Kevan was right, they had to make do with what they had and try not to kick the Hornet's nest that King's Landing had become.

_To be at the mercy of such worthless peons... _

"A-ah Milord…"

Tywin's gaze moved to the figure of Lord Terrence Kenning. Lord of Kayce, and distantly related to the Kenning's of the Iron Islands.

It seemed that Kevan's finishing of his report and his silence had emboldened him to speak.

"While it's true that Lord Kevan's report and summation is accurate to his own sensibilities," He spoke, projecting a bravado that he clearly didn't feel. "I can assure you that my men, and the rest of my friends here can stop any attempt at a riot that these…'people' might try!"

At his side, Lord Damon Marbrand gave his assent while further on lord Andros Brax was also giving his loud and blustering approval to this sentiment. Indeed many smaller Lords were also in approval of the sentiment…If not the idea.

_Fools._

Kevan's assessment of the situation was the correct one, yet these glory seekers would try to refute and deny it in a foolish attempt at possible glory.

The fact that one of his more reliable man was actually agreeing with this insanity just made it worst.

_I expected this from Tygett, not from you Marbrand._

Still, Damon Marbrand was one of his most dependable men, both in campaign and in any political matter, always supporting any action he took expecting him to be correct. But now in the middle of this fiasco…

_This has gone long enough._

Tywin straightened himself in his chair, a movement which was not missed by any of his Lords, some of whom had been in muttered conversation among themselves regarding the idea of riot control.

All of whom fell silent when he directed his gaze among them, quelling any conversation or discussion immediately.

"There will be no more talk of this. We shall make do with the amount of materials we have at the moment. We shall not invite any more problems among the smallfolk here."

All delivered in a calm voice that yet carried an undercurrent of anger. Anger at them. Anger at the situation they were in. Anger at Lord Eddard Stark which had put them there.

"Am I understood?"

The assembled Lords were quick to give their assent. Some giving them with a simple nod of their heads, without any need to speak. Even through it all, these were men who were loyal to him.

_They will remain so, or else._

After all, everyone still remembered the fate of House Reyne and House Tarbeck.

Now that order had once more been reestablished, Tywin turned his gaze once more towards Kevan.

"I assume this is not why you had this meeting called."

Kevan cleared his throat before answering. "The news about our situation needed to be conveyed yes, but that was not the entire reason."

Kevan stood and moved towards another table, this one with documents on top. He continued talking as he looked through them.

"It arrived a little while ago, while we were all asleep actually. Tygett was the one who received it first and then brought it to my attention… Aha! Here it is."

With that final exclamation he turned once more towards the Great table and presented Tywin with a Scroll.

A scroll sealed with the Baratheon coat of arms.

As murmurs once more started sweeping through the assembled people, Tywin's eyes locked on the scroll.

"Are we sure it is genuine" He asked, locking gazes with Kevan.

"As much as we'll ever be" He replied confidently. "The sigil has been examined, and it fits with what we know of House Baratheon's emblem. This message is addressed to you from Lord Robert."

As Tywin looked at the scroll, a suspicion passed through his mind.

"How did he know where to send it?" He asked as he narrowed his eyes.

That was a legitimate concern, after all the attack on the city had been a complete surprise for both sides. Only the accidental discovery of his army by Stark…

"Were any ravens sent from the Keep?

If Stark had managed to send his version first, then…

"No sire. We have been vigilant in that regard."

Good.

Still…

"Then how did Lord Baratheon knew where to send it?" He asked, his frown growing deeper already knowing the answer.

Kevan looked somewhat uncomfortable as he tried to deliver the next bit of news. He took a deep breath.

"The only place would be from Lord Karstark and the host from the North outside the walls. They didn't even try to stop the messenger from delivering it."

_So, his first hearings of the events are from the Northern forces after all._

Such events would put him in a bad light, probably also trying to put his being here as an enemy defending Aerys.

His mood grew dimmer at the realization, still he would need to know what was in the scroll eventually.

Might as well do it now.

"Read it Kevan"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A deathly silence hung inside the tent.

The Lords were shocked at what they had just heard to try and speak, so they remained quiet while Lord Tywin, still with that impassive yet angry look in his face, remained at his seat giving no clue to the world outside of his thoughts.

_He can't be serious._

If there was one thing Tywin Lannister would pride himself in, then that would be his ability to always make himself heard and respected. If no one took you seriously then they might think that it was alright to simply disobey one small order, or to be late in performing one's task.

And he knew very well that once that began, then it would only grow worse.

That's why in his entire tenure as Lord of the Westerlands, he'd never given anyone cause to not take him seriously.

People heard his commands and hurried to obey them. No one ever laughed at what he said for fear of whatever retaliation he might unleash upon them, and those with the courage to attempt it soon found themselves destitute if they were lucky.

A man disobeyed an order? Tywin had him beaten nearly to death, explaining how next time he would save himself time and send for his executioner.

A task performed incorrectly? Perhaps he won't eat until it is done to his satisfaction, and even then for longer until he feels it has been enough.

Houses sworn to him rise in rebellion? Crush them, kill all their members; men, women, children, until their name becomes synonymous with extermination.  
Once done, no one dares rise again.

That had been his way, had been his response to any who dared laugh at him and think they could get away with it.

That had been the mistake of his much despised father. Tytos Lannister had been a kind but weak man. The kind of man who everyone had laughed at openly, and anyone who heard him immediately dismissed his words as either a joke or empty air.

He loaned money to lords who never bothered to repay him afterwards. His vassals openly ignored his orders, yet all he did was laugh it away, like it was some big joke.

_If it was, then the joke was on him. _

And how could he forget one of the greatest humiliations to his house, when he decided to please Lord Frey by marrying Genna, a daughter of the Warden of the West!, to his second son, Emmon Frey. He'd spoken against it, even his vassals had spoken out against the wedding seeing it for what it was, a shameful affair.

_Not even the Firstborn, like she was some common noblewoman, instead of a member to one of the most influencial families in the Seven Kingdoms!_

Even on the occasions when he had decided to punish his vassals he'd failed.  
Tytos had imprisoned Lord Tarbeck for disloyalty against his liege lord. In return, Lady Tarbeck had seized three Lannisters, including his cousin Stafford, whose sister…

_Don't think about it!_

He'd suggested that Tarbeck be sent back to his wife in three pieces, one for every Lannister taken, but his father had returned Tarbeck unharmed!

_But I showed them. Them and the Reynes. You don't mock a Lannister. Not anymore._

Yes, he had shown everyone that he was not his father's son. Tytos Lannister had been slothful, weak-willed, soft. A disaster for House Lannister.  
It had been up to him to recover his family's reputation. And after many years, hard work, and shrewd decisions, he'd accomplished it.

_And now, this…this would-be king expected him…_

The contents of the message had been telling indeed. That Robert felt secure enough to give such orders in such a tone showed him to be completely secure in his power.

Or completely without tact whatsoever.

"Repeat the message Kevan." He asked of his brother in a calm voice that veiled a great anger underneath.

Kevan Lannister had never been a man that others looked to as a leader. In fact many people often joked that Kevan never had a thought that Tywin didn't have first.

Yet thankfully he is no idiot.

Kevan just gave a look that bordered between fear and exasperation. Had anyone else tried to do the same they would have wished for death compared to what awaited them.

"In brief, Lord Baratheon has commanded that you break the siege against the Red Keep immediately, furthermore he orders you to abandon the city and form yourself in a different encampment opposite Lord Stark's forces."

The message had been longer than that, including a warning about troops left in the care of Lord Tully, which could easily turn towards the Westerlands now that it was unprotected.

But the most important threat of all need not be mentioned again.

Jaime.

His son. He threatened his son's life. The future heir of House Lannister.  
It had been an angry tirade, one in which it ordered, commanded more likely, to leave Stark alone, or his homeland and son would suffer.

Looking around the room, he saw the disbelief and worry reflected in each of his vassals' faces. Growing grimmer and more scared.

Lord Brax was looking lost, not knowing what to do exactly, and in that he was accompanied by Lord Kenning, the braggart now not knowing how to act.

Thankfully there were still other lords whose silence were not the product of fear and indecision, but of caution and attention, waiting for his response. Lord Marbrand chief among them, with Lord Banefort a close second.

_It was not supposed to go like this. _

He had underestimated Robert Baratheon. And why shouldn't he? He was only an overgrown boy, not even raised to rule among his parents but sent to the Vale as a boy.

He was not supposed to have obtained the loyalty and allegiance of the great lords so easily. He was not supposed to have been a great leader and commander. He was supposed to have tried to placate him in this situation.

Yet it seemed that he had made a mistake in writing him off so quickly.

He had never once thought that he would dare to march against his men to get to the Keep and rescue Stark. And never in his dreams did he imagine that he would dare threaten to take his son's life, which given that Jaime was with Stark in the Keep it could be done.

Glaring once more at Kevan and the message Robert (The future King now) Baratheon had sent him, he resisted the urge to sigh. How else should he react to it now that things were upside down?

_How did it come to this?_

His scouts were the ones responsible in never letting him know of another force coming from the Kingsroad. And by the time they knew of Lord Stark sortie into the red Keep he was already inside, further attempts to enter had been stymied by the Northerners.

Naturally, the scouts paid their failure with their lives.

_They should be grateful their families didn't pay the price as well._

Only some news from inside had been obtained thanks to Pycelle; it had been his son who had killed Aerys Targaryen and the last anyone had seen of him was when in the company of Lord Stark.

No more news had come after that, either Pycelle was dead or Stark had cut all forms of communication and he did not dare send another message.

_I have no news of Jaime._

"He threatens my son"

Kevan sighed. "Yes he does."

All the lords in the room were paying attention to his words. Waiting to see what he would do in this situation.

_No, not this time._

He turned his hard gaze towards the gathered lords around the table as he spoke in an authoritative tone.

"Leave. All of you."

The lords prepared to make some kind of protest, or at least tried. But one look at Tywin's eyes was enough to kill their objections and make them leave. Little by little the tent became emptier. Leaving the Lannister brothers alone.

All of them.

"That includes you as well, Tygett."

Tygett just kept on looking with his flinty gaze, not budging an inch.

"You called on me to come to this meeting." He said, nearly spitting the words out.

"And now I'm telling you to leave it." Tywin replied, looking straight at him, imposing his will.

It was a curt dismissal, one that only served to enrage him further.

Tygett looked ready to explode at this cavalier response, his body tensed as if he was ready to attack. Kevan even started moving towards them, ready to intercept any sudden movement.

He saw the movement which distracted him from his fit of anger. Taking deep breaths and one last venomous look towards Tywin, he turned towards the exit and left.

"Was it that bad to let him stay?" Kevan asked, truly curious.

"He hasn't earned the right yet." Tywin answered. "He still chafes against me, until he bends then he won't be given the same privileges as you."

Kevan gave a single nod, not at all upset at how Tywin looked at his actions.

"How shall we deal with Lord Baratheon?"

Kevan looked placid, as he always did as he asked what everyone in the room had been thinking.

"There is no mention of anything regarding what will happen to Lord Stark because of his actions…" Tywin mused. Exasperation and anger beginning to make his way through his body.

It was quite a conundrum, he could try to stay inside the city and fight, declare for the loyalists and join forces with Tyrell and Martell.

_I would be a complete fool if I believed that possible._

The loyalists would never accept him, not after the news of the sacking. And even disregarding it, attempting to fight both, Baratheon and Arryn's forces, with Stark looming at his back was nothing short of suicide.

_It could hurt them, but it would destroy me. It would destroy Lannister._

Kevan, Tygett, himself and his son were at this place, if they died or were captured that would leave leadership to Gerion, or even worse…Tyrion.

_The Clown and the Dwarf._

His youngest, and perhaps most reckless brother. Gerion Lannister was different not only in temperament but in his physical aspects as well. Possessing both, the golden hair and the green eyes of Lannister, the rest of his body was skinny. Not enough to make him sick, but more like someone who saw no interest in exercising whatsoever.

Quick to laugh, and quick to make others laugh.

_Just like father_. Thought Tywin Scornfully.

Gerion however seemed to at least recognize his authority. Or perhaps it would be better to say that he saw no point in what he called the "game" and instead made jokes that mocked everyone, including himself.

_He would destroy everything I've worked for in one day. No, in one joke._

And then, there was the dwarf.

_Tyrion._

Tyrion Lannister, his third "Son" as it were. The ultimate proof that the gods were cruel and played jests on all, big or small. Giving him a mockery of a child instead of another worthy member of his House.

_What father could love a stunted Dwarf more than his true son or daughter?_

In the end, to allow that dwarf to inherit was never in the plan before, nor would it ever be in the future.

_There are no worthy heirs for House Lannister to take my place._

There was no choice then, for the House to survive he would have to give way. He would have to bend to Lord Baratheon's demands and leave the city.  
The very thought… the very humiliation of what such act would bring sparked an anger inside of him that he hadn't thought possible.

_Enemies will see weakness and try to once more see how far they can push.  
The pre-eminence of House Lannister in the Westerlands will be shook, everything I have worked towards will suddenly be set several steps back, yet to refuse would mean destruction…_

"My Lord, If I may?"

Kevan's question broke through Tywin's mind, who gave him a gesture to continue, if anything it might distract him from the anger long enough to figure a way to minimize the damage to his reputation.

"As we can infer from the message, it seems that Lord Baratheon shares with Lord Stark what one would clearly see as a very close friendship. Born perhaps from the time they spent together as wards." Kevan spoke slowly, arranging the arguments in his mind.

"The very reason Lord Baratheon fought in the rebellion is because of Lord Stark's sister, or so he claims…" Kevan continued. "Still, from what little information we have gathered, it would seem that Lord Stark will not be harshly punished for his actions today.

"The fact that Lord Baratheon's message was so threatening shows that he holds him in very high regard, Lord Stark only needs to give some excuse, any at all, and Lord Baratheon will immediately clear him of all wrongdoing."

Kevan's words made sense, yet he was not saying anything new. All of what he'd said had already been clear to Tywin, so why…?

"I'm afraid that in this situation, it is us who are at a disadvantage for the moment. Therefore, my Lord I would strongly suggest that we do as Lord Baratheon says, and remove ourselves from the city."

…What?

Tywin stared with an impassive look, wondering if he had actually heard Kevan correctly.

All the while, Kevan maintained eye contact

_Do you take me for a fool? He thought angrily._

He knew he had to retreat from the city. He knew that there was no way to obtain victory here. He was all set to prepare such actions.

Yet now, for Kevan to just suggest it like that.

_Do you really believe me to be so foolish!?_

Did Kevan really think that he would attempt to fight? That he would give Stark and Baratheon the chance to get rid of him? To humble House Lannister for the next two generations?

_I expected better fr-._

He stopped.

_…Of course._

It was clever once he processed the information.

After all, Kevan was not an idiot.

With the suggestion given, and the guards outside who might have heard it, Kevan will be the one who comes as suggesting abandoning the city and bowing to Lord Baratheon's demands.

It would mitigate somewhat the damage to his reputation, since blame would likely fall on Kevan, giving him more room to maneouver the following ramifications, thus regaining lost ground faster.

_I will have to give the order, but if it is seen that my closest advisor was the one to suggest it…_

It would still do damage, but less than the alternative.

Kevan never stopped looking at Tywin's eyes during this reasoning, yet no sign of the revelation showed on his face.

"I will think about it." Said Tywin after a while, giving a small imperceptible nod.

Kevan gave a slight bow. "Of course."

Tywin backed into his chair as he spoke. "Call them back, in about an hour."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The abandoning the city had not been any easier.

Once the decision had been made and communicated to the rest of his bannermen the process to break the camp had begun.

Things then developed as expected after that. Tygett had been furious with the idea of retreating from a battle, the rest of his vassals had looked at Kevan with reproach, blaming him for the situation and decision.

His men were demoralized after the entire debacle; what at the beginning had seemed like a promising and successful pillage had turned into a depressing and costly fiasco that left them retreating.

But the worst had been the smallfolk.

They had been watching and sulking all the time since after the fires had died down, rage, resentment and fear coursed through their bodies at the sight of armed soldiers. And though their anger was great and their resentment as well, it was still a delicate balance between them and fear.

His soldiers had gathered their equipment in relative silence, and once put into formation they had then moved towards the gate to leave.

That had been the moment when the smallfolk had gathered, word passing through the grapevine faster than anyone thought, standing by the sides, looking.

Just looking.

_Delighting in what they see as my defeat._

Which was true in a way. To see the soldiers who had inflicted as much damage upon them and their property just leave like beaten dogs had been for some the highlight of their days, if not their lives.

_The only reason they refrained from cheering was the weapons we had._

Many of the soldiers had drawn their weapons at the order of their commanders, ready to attack at the first sign of provocation by the rapidly forming crowd.

It was not necessary, the crowd of people contented themselves observing from a distance in silence, moving to give them room to leave as soon as they made way towards the gates. Some of them were even getting over their fear, their faces starting to show vindictiveness and satisfaction at their humiliation.

And then… the last blow.

For it was when they were all nearly our when the cheering began. It could be thought that the populace had finally decided to celebrate once they were out of sight, but it wasn't that…It was worse.

They were cheering Stark.

Once they were nearly out the Red Keep's doors had opened, and out came the Northern cavalry, marching down to the cheers and happiness of the smallfolk, dividing themselves under each of Stark's companions and providing order to the areas vacated by his soldiers.

It didn't matter at the moment to the smallfolk that they had done nothing to stop the sacking of the city, or that they had been the enemies not two nights ago.

No, what mattered to them now was that they had opposed Tywin, and for the moment that was enough.

He'd done his best to ignore it, even as he marched his men to camp to the opposite side of Stark's host near the Gate of the Gods.

It was while they were still near the gates when the noise of the Northern cavalry approaching was heard.

They were still in formation at the site of their new campsite when they first saw it, movement near the ramparts as a stout man with a brown beard and full mane of hair lead a group of other armed men with him.

The Lannister sigil, the Golden Lion in a field of red had been left in the ramparts, a signal to show everyone who had been the one to take the city.

And it was the Golden Lion in a field of red which was then removed and thrown to the ground as it was replaced with the Direwolf Sigil.

He looked at it in complete silence as the rest of his host did the same. Not one of his vassals had thought that such disrespect would be shown to his Emblem. He knew how his men and his vassals would interpret such action.

It was then that a shout was heard from the Stark encampment.

Further on in the direction of Stark's host, little by little, the soldiers of the North watched the ramparts. There, the man still proudly posing showed their sigil now held upon them and the reaction was instantaneous.

They started to cheer.

First one, then another until soon enough the entire host of the North was cheering and chanting the name of the man in the ramparts.

"Dustin! Dustin! Dustin! Dustin!"

_The effect could not have been more devastating for my men._

At that stage, with their spirits in the ground they could not have mounted an effective attack or defense against anyone.

_They will pay for this._

His family name had been humiliated, the actions of Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon had made sure of that. And now, his sigil had been made a mockery as well.

There would be a reckoning for this.

_Keep your mind in the present for now._

He could not let himself be distracted by the past actions, not now when they were approaching the endgame.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

At the top of Aegon's Hill lies the palace of the Targaryen Kings, known throughout the land as the Red Keep.

It has an interesting story, this palace. Built first as a fort during the War of Conquest, it was later made even grander under the orders of Aegon the Conqueror.

He died before the construction was finished.

The labor was continued during the reign of two Targaryen Kings later on; Aenys and Maegor, both brothers. And while the results were as magnificent as their father had expected, it did not stop Maegor from killing the builders of such marvel.

After all, it would not do for them to spread the secrets of its construction.  
The Red Keep was made of pale red stone. Seven massive drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts were made for its protection. Massive curtain walls surrounded it, with nests and crenelations for archers.

Thick stone parapets, some four feet high, protected the outer edge of the wall ramparts, where the heads of traitors could be placed on iron spikes between the crenels at the gatehouse. The walls had great bronze gates and portcullises, with narrow postern doors nearby. The immense barbican had a cobbled square in front of it. Behind the walls were small inner yards, vaulted halls, covered bridges, the barracks of the gold cloaks, dungeons and granaries.

While the outside of the keep had the strength which would keep an enemy at bay, The inside was designed to awe any who took residence.  
Maegor's Holdfast, named after the Third Targaryen King, lies behind walls twelve feet thick. A dry moat lined with a bed of formidable iron spikes surrounds it, with a drawbridge spans the moat. Inside is where the royal apartments are located

The only way in or out is across the drawbridge. And a knight of the Kingsguard is always posted at its far end.

_At least it was always supposed to be posted._

The Holdfast contains the Queen's Ballroom, a hall only half as big as the Small Hall in the Tower of the Hand. The Ballroom seated one hundred men and women, and had beaten silver mirrors behind the wall sconces which made the torches light seem twice as bright. Its walls are paneled with richly carved wood and it has a gallery above the main floor. High arched windows sit along the south wall.

The Tower of the Hand, the apartment of the most important of the King's council contains Its chambers. Its Small Hall is a long room with a high-vaulted ceiling and bench space for two hundred.

The private audience chamber is not as large as the king's, it has wall hangings, and a golden-tinted round window that give it a sense of intimacy. The Tower also has tall windows, a solar, and a garderobe.

_I spent around 20 years there managing Aerys' Kingdom._

The Great Hall, the throne room of the king. The Iron Throne sits on a raised iron dais with high and narrow steps. A long carpet stretches from the throne to the Hall's great oak-and-bronze doors. The cavernous Hall can sit 1,000 people and is oriented north to south, with high, narrow windows on the eastern and western walls. Skulls of the Targaryen dragons adorned the walls so that every noble or petitioner never forgot about the Targaryen motto.

Fire and Blood.

_Impossible to enforce now, with the last dragon dead for over 100 years._

Overall, the Keep is not particularly large, smaller than Winterfell if one cares to measure.

Still…

_Doesn't mean it's not large. _

Those were the thoughts of Tywin Lannister as he approached the keep, mounted and in full armor. The way was now clear of any debris or fortifications.

The Direwolf banner still flew over it.

"There! Now once Ned and I meet we can make our plans and continue the advance. That Bastard Tarly won't get the drop on me this time." The large man leading the way said, his voice both boisterous and happy at the same time.

He was not alone this time though.

Two other Lords had come with him, the guards surrounding them looking around the place ready for any attack upon them, one could not be careful enough about their safety.

Leading the group was Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, and de jure leader of the Rebellion. Tall, broad shouldered and muscled, he wore his armor almost like a second skin, with the huge antlers in his helmet standing proudly.

His face showed the mood of its wearer, cheerfulness and excitement was in it.

_A weakness if there ever was one._

Robert always displayed all his emotions for the world to see, never hiding not tempering them. Not a good quality for a king to have.

Despite his injury in battle, he had refused to walk or be carried once entering the city, thus he endured the pain that must be coursing through his body as he climbed his horse and rode from the gate to the Keep.

"Robert, please." Spoke the other man comprising the trio. "You are still recovering from your injuries. You should not be riding, let alone diving headfirst into battle yet." His voice although old was still strong and firm, yet carried a soft gentleness, one of a father worrying for his child.

This was Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, Warden of the East and first to rebel against Aerys. Mentor of both Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.

His hair and bear were already grey, not surprising considering his advanced age, yet despite such he possessed still the strength and will to fight alongside his former wards.

He'd been the one to try and soften the crude attitude of the future King, trying to be diplomatic when Robert was being direct, to the point of insulting.

_A lackluster job, but he at least recognizes the severity of the situation._

Despite his warning Robert only laughed it away, talking about their next move, their encounter against the Tyrell forces besieging Storm's End, and how with Ned and their side they could finally kick the Loyalists away and rescue Lyanna.

_And no mention whatsoever about me or the acts against my host._

That had been the reception he'd gotten once they'd met outside the Gate of the Gods. That had been the response to the unprovoked attack by one of their own.

Utter and complete silence from Robert's part.

Not that they ignored his presence of course, the common courtesies and greetings were observed. But Robert Baratheon's actions made absolutely clear that no harm or repercussion would be coming on Eddard Stark's head, at least until they had a chance to speak with him.

It did not surprise him, he and Kevan had the right of it when they thought about what Robert would do. He would give Stark any and all opportunities to get free of the charges

_While I surely will get the blame for defending myself._

They had moved past the entrance a while ago, and once they'd left the horses behind they had then moved towards the entrance, moving past the hallways towards the Great Hall where they had been informed Lord Stark awaited.

The hallways had been cleaned recently, yet still some splotches of blood could be seen in different places. On the floor, on the walls, etc.

At least the bodies had been removed.

_How many of them were my men?_

He was sure that Eddard Stark had killed many of them, there was no possibility for the Targaryen guards to rally enough men with the discipline to kill Lord Crakehall and Lord Westerling's troops.

They had been missing as well and, as speculated by Kevan, possibly held captive in one of the cells in the keep.

_Is my son there as well?_

At this stage he would not put it past Stark to do just that. He would surely put a heavy price to release them knowing full well how important it was for his family to have a worthy heir.

It was tis final thought which resided in his head as they finally approached the gate leading to the Great Hall. There at the front were two of Stark's men which moved aside and opened the door as they approached.

As he entered a small part of his mind noticed that the Great Hall had not changed much since the last time he'd seen it. The room still possessed the long carpet stretching from the throne to the great oak-and-bronze floor looked as shiny and resplendent as the days before the rebellion.

Probably just cleaned recently.

One change he'd noticed immediately was the lack of skulls of the Targaryen dragons which had formerly adorned the walls. Now there were only empty places where they usually were.

But that still took second place to what he, Robert and Jon saw. For there at the base of the Iron Throne stood two figures, one of them being the person responsible for all the misfortune he'd suffered since he arrived at the city.

There at the foot of the throne, still wearing his armor and with the Valyrian sword Ice in his sheath, stood Eddard Stark.

And he was not alone.

_Jaime?_

Next to him, at the other side of the base, Jaime Lannister stood guard with his sword still in his sheath. His Kingsguard uniform looked crumpled, it showed that he hadn't changed in a long time. Still his face looked clean, serious and alert, with no sign of his usual mocking grin.

The sight of his son at the side of Stark confused Tywin, he'd expected Jaime to be a prisoner, to be a bargaining chip that Stark and Robert would use against him in the future. To see his son still in the armor of the Kingsguard, still armed and standing proudly right in front of him…

_What is going on?_

He'd managed to contain the surprise so it didn't show on his face, a good thing since the moment he'd entered Stark had looked straight at him with what was probably the coldest look that one could make.

It was not impassive however, there was anger there… no, it was more than anger. It was pure complete rage, a murderous desire to inflict harm barely being held back.

Tywin kept his gaze locked him, not giving an inch nor retreating, this will contest did not last long as a booming voice brought them out of it.

"Ned! What's with that face? Have you scowled so long it finally froze that way?" Laughed Robert as he approached his friend with a wide grin.

Jon approached as well, happy to see his former ward was not harmed yet also with some trepidation, as the anger coming from Eddard's body was too great to be easily dismissed.

At the sound of Robert's voice Ned's face seemed to soften a little, almost going back to a more relaxed expression.

But all it took was one quick look at the floor for it to harden once more.

Curious, Tywin thought as he quickly looked at the floor as well, and found to his surprise that he had focused so much on Eddard and Jaime that he had not noticed the red cloak on the floor.

_That color looks almost like…_

A sudden feeling of dread pooled around his stomach at the sight of the cloak.

It could be because of its coloration, or perhaps how it was big enough to cover a grown man's body.

Or perhaps it was the slight bulge that rested in the middle.

"Robert," Eddard began with a voice as cold as his eyes were at the moment.  
"I'm glad to see you here, there is a matter of grave importance to discuss."

"Come on, Ned" Replied Robert in a cajoling tone. "We've just arrived here, we should be celebrating! Aerys is dead, and we shall soon do the same to that fat hog of Mace Tyrell."

_Fool._

Robert could not see it, still too joyful about killing Rhaegar, too excited about a new campaign that he missed that during the entire interlude Eddard and Tywin had not broken eye contact at all.

"This matter needs your attention Robert." Eddard slightly snarled, this time a note of impatience entering his voice.

Jon had been advancing towards his former ward alongside Robert and Tywin, and the change in tone prompted him to speak before Robert.

"What is the matter Eddard?"

Robert finally noticed that the situation was serious and started to frown. Tywin, although not completely sure about what was about to happen, had an inkling of a suspicion.

They stopped walking the moment they reached the crimson cloak on the floor, looking both at it and Eddard, who was at the other side. This close to the cloak they could feel something different.

_That smell_. Tywin thought. _It's almost like…_

He knew then, just what was inside the cloak.

"We must discuss the shameful and criminal actions performed by Lord Tywin two days ago."

The silence following that proclamation could belong in a graveyard.

"Criminal acts?" Jon asked, curiosity and incomprehension in his voice "Ned, Lord Tywin's assault on the city, while certainly-"

"I'm not referring to that violation." Eddard interrupted, a touch of disgust in his voice.

"Then what is this about?" Robert asked in an exasperated voice. "And could someone get rid of that smell?! Where is it coming from?!"

"That, Robert," Eddard continued, his voice taking a deceptively soft tone before it exploded. "would be THIS!"

With a quick move Eddard grabbed one end of the cloak and threw it open revealing what was inside.

Of the three of them, Tywin was the only one not surprised of what was inside.

The entire body was unrecognizable, if it had even been a body to begin with. The skull was a ruin, all mixed in red with chunks of brain barely clinging inside. Robert Baratheon, a fighter and veteran of many fights, could not even stand its sight.

All that remained of the boy, for indeed it was a boy, was a faceless horror of bone, brain, and gore with a few hanks of fair hair.

"What is this?" Jon asked, horrified of what he was seeing, his voice trembling at first yet gaining strength as he continued.

"This…is Aegon VI Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, brother to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, _and he was only one year old when your assassins ended his life!_" Eddard shouted at Tywin as the rage overcame him, his heavy breathing proof of it.

The silence in the hall was even more pronounced after the shouting. Jon Arryn kept looking at the body, his features becoming more in control, yet still horrified by the implication. Eddard's eyes however were still locked on Tywin's, drilling with their accusation and anger.

Yet Tywin remained unfazed.

_So… Clegane succeeded at least._

The fact that the child had died meant that at least part of his objective had been completed.

_But what about Elia and Rhaenys? If they had been killed as well then Stark would surely have presented them like he did right now._

Still, he had to remain calm.

"It was necessary to eliminate any future threats to the throne."

And it was. After all one could not usurp a three century dynasty and expect the transition to be smooth, if anything to eliminate the family in their place should be seen as a favor.

From the angry look of Stark to the growing disapproving from Jon Arryn, it seemed they didn't.

_Just as I thought…honorable fools._

_And I'd believed you'd be different Stark._

From the taking of the Red Keep till this moment he'd thought Stark would have acted in the same way he would, taking ruthless advantage of any opportunity. Now, it seemed that he'd once more misread another of his opponents.

Eddard had opened his mouth, ready to deliver another argument against him…

"Well, that's that then."

Yet it seemed it was unnecessary as Robert chose that moment to interrupt.

Eddard quickly turned his head towards Robert, the look of anger in his face now replaced by one of incredulity.

"…What?" He asked.

Robert turned his eyes from the body and looked straight at Eddard. In his eyes there was no sign of guilt, disgust nor even reproach of anger.

"That's that Ned." Robert replied. "The royal family is dead. The Targaryens are dead. So what does it matter now?"

This answer, delivered in a calm and disinterested tone, didn't seem to be what Stark expected, since his confusion seemed to grow and was now joined by another emotion.

Disbelief.

"You can't be serious…" Stark spoke softly "He is-"

"Dead." Robert interrupted once more, exasperation breaking through his voice. "What do you want me to do Ned? The children of Rhaegar are dead, there is nothing else to do here. The matter is settled."

Robert spoke with finality, wanting it seemed to close this chapter once and for all.

_And it seems the one I expected the less from actually understands._

Yet looking at Robert and the way his eyes seemed to light up a little, it appeared that it was more emotion than logic which moved his decision so.

Although he'd won the rebellion and killed Rhaegar, Robert's hatred of his slain foe had not diminished.

Seeing his hated foe's progeny thus eliminated, as well as their entire house brought to ruin, was not something that would move him.

As stupid as he is even he knows Rhaegar's children had to die if the throne was ever to be secure.

_Yet he sees himself as a hero and heroes do not kill children._

Tywin looked on at the debacle happening around him, from Eddard's lost look slowly changing to one of anger once more, to his own son's stony façade. From Jon's near understanding to Robert's look of not caring.

Of the group who'd entered the Great Hall, he was the one still in full control of his emotions.

Thus, he was not surprised at all with what happened next.

Eddard Stark was outraged and disgusted by the act, one could see from the way he had reacted; from seeing Tywin to accusing him of murder.

But that Robert seemed completely indifferent to the act seemed to enrage him even more.

"What is wrong with you!" He shouted, gaining force as he continued. "Lady Elia had to witness her son, her one year old son, be brutally smashed against a wall until he finally died! She was then nearly raped and murdered by Tywin's mad dog, Ser Gregor Clegane!" He put as much scorn in the title and name as possible. "Princess Rhaenys was nearly killed as well by Ser Amory Lorch, and you tell me that the matter is settled!"

Robert's face was a sight to behold, from the moment Stark started shouting at him until the moment he ran silent many different emotions could be seen. Shock at the beginning, surprise at hearing of Lady Elia still being alive…

Rage, at hearing the last part of Stark''s diatribe.

"Ned, are you telling me that they still live." He spoke softly, a calm before the storm. "Rhaegar's remaining spawn still live?"

Robert's anger was subdued for the moment, only a pulsing vein at his neck betraying it.

"Yes." Stark replied "I killed Clegane and rescued Lady Elia. Ser Jaime rescued princess Rhaenys from Lorch."

At that Tywin reacted, although no one noticed. A quick look at his son was all he afforded, yet inside he was seething at the action. His son had killed Aerys, why had he saved the rest of the family?

He did not get a chance to wonder, as Robert gave a shout more commonly found in battlefields.

"_WHY!_ Why would you do such a thing Ned!? You came to this city to get revenge! Don't try to tell me you didn't! Have you forgotten what they did to us!? What they did to your family!? _What they did to Lyanna!?_"

Stark's response, far from being subdued, was as angry as Robert's

"I know very well what they did to my family!" He spat "But I came to kill Aerys, not to kill innocent people! Not to kill defenseless women and children!"

"Innocents?! _THEY ARE TARGARYEN! THEY ARE THE ENEMY!_"

The argument could not be more ferocious if one tried. Here they were, two friends as close as they could be, now metaphorically at each other's throats.

Jon Arryn seemed conflicted, his facial expression conveyed as much. But Tywin…

_Interesting._

He didn't know what to expect… No, perhaps better to say he'd expected for Stark to get clear of all wrongdoing, and for him to carry the blame for this fiasco.

This…this was more than he could hope for. If he was a different man he may have actually smiled.

_My opinion of you is not wrong after all Stark… You truly are a fool. An honorable one, but a fool nonetheless._

The argument between the two friends only seemed to escalate more and more, with shouting between them echoing through the Hall. Stark raged on about the killing of the supposed innocents while Robert could only rage about how part of Rhaegar's family was still alive.

"What do you think will happen then Ned?! Should we let them live so they could plot their vengeance later on?!_THEY ALL MUST DIE!_"

"There are options! The Night Watch! The Silent Sisters! Either one could take them and without the need to kill them! Dear Gods Robert, Aegon was only a babe! Rhaenys is just a child!" Ned continued his voice imploring at the end, nearly begging his friend to see reason.

Robert did not respond, instead he turned his head to look at Aegon's body once more. His face relaxed and started to lose that angry tone, Stark even began to look hopeful.

"_I see no babe, only dragonspawn._"

The reply had been given in a completely serious and toneless voice. Robert's face was a contradiction in itself, completely relaxed and hateful as he declared his intentions without speaking them.

It hit Stark like a punch. His eyes widened, a look of complete shock and incomprehension on his face, looking at Robert as if seeing him for the first time.

It didn't last.

Stark's face soon grew rigid, the rage he had formerly directed at Tywin now channeled at Robert himself. His look could not be said to be cold, freezing might be a better word. At his side Jaime…

What…?

Through the entire confrontation, even before that Jaime had remained completely stone faced, serious at all times, yet now when he had heard Robert's intentions…

He would kill him. Right this moment he would do it.

Robert paid no attention to Jaime's look of complete hatred as he was more occupied paying attention to Stark, who after several moments only replied with a single sentence.

"_You are no better than Rhaegar._"

Robert's eyes opened full in fury, the blood once more rushed too his head as his face grew red in pure rage, his body moved almost in mechanic precision as his hands grabbed for his Warhammer and his legs adopted a fighting stance made to strike with full force.

Not that Stark had remained idle.

Just as Robert began to move, so did Stark adopted a defensive position, his handready to end the fight in a single move as he drew his sword from his scabbard. A Valyrian blade passed through the Stark family for generations, if it striked first the fight could be over in a second.

_Can't let that happen._

Tywin prepared to draw, he had already sacrificed too much to let Robert be killed. That it would also remove Stark permanently was a bonus.

Just as Tywin began to move, just as Robert grabbed his Warhammer and Stark his sword there was a grand shout that rang through the hall.

"_ENOUGH!_"

It was enough to make them all hesitate, which gave time to Jon Arryn to interpose himself between them, his sword already out and in his hand.

"That! Is! Enough! I will not have you both fight and kill yourselves! Eddard! Robert! Put your weapons down. Now!"

From anyone else such an order would have never made Robert nor Stark back down.

But this was Jon Arryn. A man that had been in all respects like a second father to them.

They slowly moved their weapons down, yet the anger still remained in them.

"That goes for you two as well. Lord Tywin, Ser Jaime. Do not unsheathe your swords."

At the warning Tywin turned to look at his son, and indeed Jaime had made as to unsheathe his sword, the angry look still on his face. He could still see the struggle in his son's eyes, he who had never run from a fight was now being ordered to restrain himself, yet in the end he slowly removed his hand from his sword.

But unlike him his eyes had been on Robert.

His son had been planning on aiding Stark.

_What is happening to you?_

The situation with his son was already confusing him too much. But the matters at had demanded his attention the most.

He let it pass for now.

They would have a conversation when this is was all over.

"This is has gone long enough! Whatever happened it's resolved for now. We still have to take care of the Royalists in Storm's End." Admonished Jon to Stark, whose countenance remained frosty and angry.

"As for you Robert," He turned to present his visage upon the King-to-be  
"Relations with the Martell's will be difficult enough without you killing what's left of their family. So don't even think about it!"

Robert's visage was a picture of rage, whether because of the insinuation or because of his rejected desire to kill what was left of his nemesis' family Tywin did not know.

Then again, that look of rage is purely focused on Stark.

It was more than rage if one cared to look closer, there was a feeling of…  
Well, it doesn't matter.

The damage had been done, it was not a complete removal as he'd hoped but Stark's standing had been given a serious blow, and from what he could see it would not be recovered until one of them gave up on their stated positions.

Something he did not see happening.

_I can work with this._

However, he would not be the one to start the process.

"We have to move quickly" Jon continued, now in a more calm tone of voice.  
"News of what happened here will have spread but we don't know how the Tyrell's will react."

If he expected either one of them to give his opinion then he was disappointed. Neither Robert nor Stark spoke. They could barely stand to look at each other, the feeling in the great hall was thick as everyone could feel the anger of these two men.

Looking at both sides Jon sighed and spoke once more.

"… Ned perhaps you should relieve Storm's End. Your men and Robert's forces will go with you while my men and Tywin's garrison the city."

Stark turned to look at Jon, his face giving voice to his conflicted thoughts.  
He clearly didn't trust the Lannisters in the city anymore, and from the looks he gave Robert he didn't trusted him either.

Yet before he could speak his mind he was interrupted.

"It's a bad idea."

All eyes turned to the speaker surprised.

Jaime Lannister had remained quiet during the entire talk, even during the almost-fight. For him to speak all of a sudden was somewhat shocking.

If any of the attention unnerved him he didn't show it as he continued on, his face serious once more.

"With the damage done there would be a great deal of discontent in the city should the Lannister army be brought back in. Not to mention that the safety of Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys might be in question."

No one expected those words. Especially not his father.

Tywin was stunned, it lasted for about a moment but it was quite a shock.  
To hear his own son speaking as such.

He recovered quickly though. If his son was planning on acting in such a way as to bring the fortunes of his house even lower, then it would be his duty to show him the error of his ways.

_We will have words later on Jaime. Words about the importance of the family and what it means to be a Lannister._

"While that may be so, Robert and my men will also be here to stop any kind of pr-"

"Actually," Jaime interrupted. "Lord Baratheon staying here would only make me feel less sure about their safety."

Robert turned slowly, the rage inside of him having now found an outlet. He advanced towards him, his hands near his weapon yet not reaching for it as  
he started speaking in a falsely calm tone.

"Do you have anything to say to me, boy? Do you have any accusation to give against me? In that case… you better do it"

All through the talk Jaime looked at him, his posture relaxed, his hands away from his weapons, no sign of fear in his eyes.

It made his voice all the more cutting.

"I don't trust you with their lives."

Silence.

Robert's reply was not what one would expect. Given the anger he still carried inside one could assume he would lash out, screaming or with his own fists.

No one expected him to break out laughing.

But this laugh was different form his usual displays of merriment. Those laughs invited everyone to join in the happiness, to share the joke, to be happy with the same person laughing.

This laugh was dark, mocking, one used to hurt the recipient of such. Just as Robert intended when he finished laughing… and replied.

"And you would be better at protecting them?" Robert shot back in a mocking tone. "You who broke his own oath and killed the King that he was sworn to protect?"

That he had approved of the act had been forgotten, all he wanted at the moment was to bring down the one who had dared insult him.

It seemed to have worked… Jaime's face for a moment turned dark.

He will not harm him here, Tywin was sure of it. But this might actually make him reconsider.

This could be of use to getting Jaime back after all, getting him out of the Kingsguard would be the first step into regaining his heir.

Before he could interrupt Robert, Stark started speaking once more.

"Ser Jaime killed Aerys… and in so doing saved the city."

…What?

This was not what he'd been told, but why-?

His son looked surprised at the statement, not because it was untrue…That look was surprised that his actions had been revealed!

It affected the others as well, Jon looked confused at the news. Robert though…he went back to glowering at Stark once more. Probably thinking that he was doing this to spite him.

Stark didn't seem to care as he continued talking, keeping his gaze on Robert for any sudden movement.

"Aerys was insane, we all knew that. But it seems we underestimated how far he would go when pushed into a corner. When the city was already on the verge of falling," At this his eyes turned to Tywin for a moment, accusing with their intensity. "He gave the order to 'Lord' Rossart of the Alchemists to use Wildfire to burn the city to the ground."

The former revelations should have made it impossible for everyone in the hall to feel any more shocked than they were, yet the thought of what Aerys had planned, the idea of using Wildfire… It sobered them.

"When he heard of this Ser Jaime killed Rossart first, and then killed Aerys as he tried to run away, probably to the other alchemists in order to still try and burn everything. What was it that he said? 'Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. Let him be king of ashes.' Those were his last words, weren't they Ser Jaime?"

Tywin felt some of the fear grow inside him before he quickly crushed it. He and his host would have burned had Aerys succeeded in his plot.

"Really?" Robert sarcastically drawled, rage still bubbled inside of him yet without as much strength as before. "Then what evidence do you have of this? Or do you take everything your new friend tells you at face value Ned?"

"That would be the many jars of wildfire my men were able to find when we left the Red Keep." Stark replied, his rage simmered down, but his tone still cold.

"Ser Jaime told us of Aerys plan, and after the Lannisters left the city we were able to take as many of those cashes as possible. We also were able to find and capture the two other members of this plot. 'Wisdom' Belis and 'Wisdom' Garigus are inside the black cells at the moment waiting for interrogation and to find any other cache we might have missed."

Tywin didn't miss the way Stark made the separation between his son and 'Lannister'. Almost as if he did not want anything connecting them together at all.

"So in the end Robert, Ser Jaime is more than ready and qualified to protect Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys. After all, he protected the entirety of King's Landing not two days ago."

With this final proclamation the room went silent once more. Stark's challenge laying there for Robert's response.

"We seem to have gone off-topic." Hurriedly replied Jon before another fight could break out.

"While we can be assure of Ser Jaime's intention to protect the Royal family we must still send forces to relieve Storm's End, and for that we must send your Northmen and Robert's men."

Tywin could see that the dialogue would be a bitter one, especially now with the rift between Stark and Robert being wider than before.

And he knew just how to expand it even more.

"I have a suggestion…"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Tower of the Hand had not changed much since his departure, it still had that sense of decadence around it, yet without being too overwhelming to the senses.

The fact that the bed had been better than the cot he'd slept in before didn't hurt either.

"So, we sent our host, and Lord Baratheon's as well alongside Stark's while the Valemen under Lord Arryn garrison the city."

Behind a desk as he reviewed the latest missives coming from his domains Tywin remined silent. There was no need to speak, Kevan was not asking for confirmation after all.

"Our remaining here while we give the command to Tygett will certainly give him a more profound sense of importance."

Tygett would be more malleable, especially if he thinks that he might get more tasks like these in the future.

"And certainly, Lord Stark was honor bound to go when you gave him control of the host. Even while you remained here."

And there was the final nail in Stark's coffin.

_An honorable fool._

It was like Kevan had told him in that tent, Stark and Robert were brothers in all but blood, enough time together and their differences might have been patched, perhaps even healed altogether.

_But…give him full control of my host while offering to remain in King's Landing took away all resistance Stark might have had of leaving. After all, Jon Arryn's men have no love for me, and as far as he knows, there are no men loyal to me in the entire Red Keep._

_And of course there is Robert, who at this moment can only think of rage against the Targaryens… and against Stark of course._

Besides even if there were any men who'd be willing, to try and kill Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys would only incriminate him further. As it was he could still spin the murder of Aegon to make it seem the blame of those particular bannermen of his.

_Not like anyone will care for the families of Lorch or Clegane._

"What I don't understand is… why then have you not spoken to Jaime yet?"  
That was the rub in it.

Since the end of that meeting, Jaime had returned once more to his post guarding the Royal family once more, he did not miss single day, and in those moments that he needed sleep then he would trust their safety to the group of men that Lord Glover had left behind.

_Who'd have thought that their heir still was alive._

Ethan Glover… Brandon Stark's squire, everyone had thought him dead, to find him alive had been a blessing for Lord Glover. And even as weak as he was after his stay at the black cells, he'd still wanted to ride alongside the Northerners.

He still didn't know who'd convinced him to stay and help Jaime protect them.

"Kevan," Tywin began "Jaime is not an issue at the moment. Whether he wants it or not, no matter how much he might defy me now, his leaving the Kingsguard is completely guaranteed. There will be time to teach him family loyalty once we are back at Casterly Rock."

_Fighting the future king, and taking the side of his enemies will not guarantee your stay in that group son. It seems there is still much for you to learn… After the appropriate punishment of course._

He went back to reading his documents, his thoughts turning now to the one person who had caused him so much embarrassment.

_Eddard Stark._

_I underestimated you once. I made mistakes that nearly cost me all I had worked for. You had the upper hand of the entire situation._

_And you let it slip._

_Now, I think it is time for you to learn what it means to stand against me. To stand against my house. You shall learn what should have been obvious after the rebellion of House Reyne and House Tarbeck:_

_A Lannister always pays his debts._


End file.
